Where's McGee?
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: McGee gets kidnaped, tortured and then has to deal with the aftermath. McGeecentric of course, but the whole team is there. Now complete. I hope it doesn't disappoint.
1. The beginning

A/N: Even though I posted the other two first, this is actually the first NCIS fan fiction I ever wrote. It's based on a dream I had, and I'll welcome any critique of it because it is a LONG story and I'm not sure I got all the characterizations and techno-babble right (I'm not computer geek).

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or any part of the NCIS franchise. I just love it to pieces.

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**Chapter 1**

"That was a nice performance back there, Probie," Tony snarked as the team walked back in the office.

Covered head to toe in mud, Tim said nothing.

"Yeah, McGee, I never saw someone go down so thoroughly before. I'm impressed," Ziva added.

"Thanks, guys. Thanks a lot," Tim muttered, his face burning.

"McGee!" Gibbs shouted.

"Yes, boss!" McGee came to immediate attention.

"Have you finished with the Dobson files yet?"

"Not yet, boss. I-I was out with–" He didn't get a chance to finish before Tony jumped in.

"McGee was mudsliding in pursuit of a suspect, boss."

Gibbs ignored Tony. "I need those files, McGee."

"Well, the cipher hasn't been responding to any of the–""

Gibbs interrupted him. "I don't want explanations, McGee! Get on it."

"I-I just need to change..." Tim trailed off in the face of Gibbs' glare. "Or I could just get started right now." Dropping his backpack, he sat down at his computer and got started with the encrypted files from the case. A Navy lieutenant had been murdered and the case had taken an unexpected turn when he had been connected to an earlier embezzling case. Tim's task was to decrypt the files on the lieutenant's computer, but so far he'd been having little success and Gibbs was getting more and more impatient as time went on.

Tony and Ziva were still snickering over his attempt to take down a fleeing suspect wanted in a string of robberies on a naval base. The hillside had been slippery from the recent rains and after tripping over a rock Tim had gone flying down the muddy slope. He was bruised and muddy and highly embarrassed by the jibes from his colleagues. Ziva had been the one to arrest the suspect. Neither she nor Tony had the slightest bit of mud on their clothes. Now, they started typing up their reports. As time went on, Tim kept working on the files, still without success, and Tony and Ziva got ready to leave.

"Coming, Pigpen?" Tony asked.

"No."

"Come on, McGee. The files will still be there tomorrow," Ziva said, teasingly.

"So will Gibbs and he'll kill me if I don't have _something_ to tell him."

"You'd probably get my car all dirty anyway, Probie."

"See ya later, McGee."

Tony stopped and walked back to Tim's desk. "I think I found something of yours, McGee."

"What's that?"

Tony dropped a handful of mud on the desk. "You must have dropped it." Laughing he walked out.

"Thanks, Tony. I really needed that." McGee looked around the rapidly emptying office. He sat back for a moment while his latest attempt ran.

"McGee, you're pretty casual today. Did you decide to try a little mud-wrestling?" Abby stuck her head around the corner.

"Oh, hey Abby."

"Don't look so glum. Everyone has a bad day."

"Tony told you about what happened, I take it?" Tim asked with thinly veiled frustration.

"You know Tony."

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Come on, McGee. He's just teasing."

"Well, I could use a little less teasing."

"You're taking it too seriously, Tim."

"I don't think I am. I try to get along, but every time I make a mistake he rubs it in my face, sometimes for days afterward. I'm getting sick of it."

"Go home and sleep it off."

"Maybe you're right."

"Are you done yet, McGee?" Gibbs asked, appearing out of nowhere as usual.

"Not yet, boss. I can't seem to break through this encryption. Lieutenant Dobson really didn't want anyone getting to his files."

"I don't want to hear that. This case has stalled and I need something."

"I'll keep working, boss," McGee answered, resignedly.

Abby gave him a sympathetic look and left. With a sigh, Tim looked back at his computer as it beeped a negative at him. Gibbs' look was decidedly unsympathetic and McGee didn't dare even consider going home, not even after Gibbs himself had gone.

By midnight, the office had been empty for hours and Tim was increasingly frustrated with every aspect of that day. He was still dirty; the computer had told him yet again that his attempt to decode the files had failed; he was still sitting at his desk, and no one else seemed to care. In a sudden burst of anger, he slammed the keyboard and stood up. Agent Lee had called once to say that she was making no headway in the hard copy she had from the other side of the embezzling case. It seemed to be a lost cause. As he gathered up his stuff, he tripped over his trash can and kicked it. Tim glanced back at his desk as he began to walk out of the office. The chair was caked with mud; the glob of mud Tony had dropped on his desk had dried somewhat and had begun flaking off. The trash was on the floor. Normally, Tim left his space immaculate, but today, he just didn't care. By Monday, the cleaning crew would get to it and while they might grumble at him, it was the first time. He'd come in tomorrow and get to work again.

As he pulled up to his apartment, Tim was a little calmer. He regretted leaving his desk in such a state. Then, when he got to his apartment, such mundane thoughts disappeared. His door was slightly ajar. He pulled his gun and edged inside. Flipping on the light, he spun to the right and left looking for the intruder. His apartment had been completely trashed. Then, he heard something behind him. As he turned, he got a glimpse of a man masked beyond recognition right before he felt a flash of pain on the side of his head. Everything went black.


	2. Where am I?

**Chapter 2**

Consciousness returned ever so slowly and Tim regretted his increased awareness. His head ached and he felt blood trickling down past his ear. As he opened his eyes, he realized that he was blindfolded and that he was tied to a chair.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" That probably wasn't the best way to ascertain his situation, but he couldn't think of anything else.

No answer. And yet, as he became more focused, he could sense there was someone in the room with him. But he could also tell by the sound of his voice that he was no longer in his apartment. The room was much bigger and more empty... except for that person standing near him. He decided to try again.

"Hello?"

The blow came out of nowhere and knocked the chair to which Tim was tied to the floor. Unable to stop the fall, he hit the floor hard.

"Don't speak unless I tell you to do so." The voice was soft and menacing.

"Where am I? What do you want?"

This time, his captor kicked him in the stomach. "I ask the questions."

There was silence again for a time. Then, Tim was jerked upright again. Before he could think the man began beating him without mercy. The chair was continually pushed up against the wall; if it hadn't been, Tim would have been on the floor more than once. Finally, the man stepped back leaving him gasping for breath and groaning. He heard vague whispers, but couldn't gather his thoughts enough to try and listen in.

"Are we set up?"

"Give me five more minutes."

"You have two."

"Fine."

The man approached Tim again and cut him loose from the chair, letting him slump to the floor. He tied his hands and feet, kicked him a few more times and then left him lying on the ground.

"Done."

"Good. Start recording."

"Good to go."

"Let's put on a great performance, Probie. We don't want to disappoint our public."

The man began to kick and punch McGee again. Then, he pulled him up by his hands which were tied behind his back and hooked the bindings to a hook on the wall. The pain was excruciating and Tim began to scream, trying to relieve the pressure on his shoulders. The man continued to beat him. Pain seemed to come from every position. Finally, the beating stopped, but the man left him hanging there. Tim begged for relief, for help. He had no idea why this was happening. What did they want?

"Why are you doing this?" he screamed.

Silence. Finally, the man knocked his head back against the wall, knocking him out again. He turned back to his companion. "Did you get enough?"

"I got plenty. I'm copying it now."

"Good. I want it ready to go before I have the site set up."

"The copies will be done in 20 minutes. Are you going to leave him there?"

"For now."

"Okay. Will he do what we want?"

"If he wants to live, he will."

"He may not even realize what he has, you know."

"It's possible, but he's smart enough that he'd figure it out eventually."

"What's to keep him from figuring it out when you have him breaking into his own files?"

"There's no reason to keep him alive once we have what we want. The videos should keep NCIS from thinking about why we took him and focused on getting him back. They won't notice he's gone until Monday anyway."

They left Tim there and one left to mail the videos to the members of NCIS.


	3. Missing

**Chapter 3**

Tim woke to pain and confusion. Why was this happening to him? A sudden blow to his stomach brought him to full awareness. A voice intruded on his mental turmoil.

"You're such a weakling, Tim. No wonder they still call you Probie. Anyone else would have been able to escape by now."

"It's just a nickname," he whispered weakly.

The man punched him again. "What did I tell you about speaking out of turn, Probie?"

Tim was silent hoping to stop the pain. It didn't work. With another punch, the man said, "I asked you a question!"

"I don't speak unless spoken to."

"That's right. Any questions?"

"Why are you doing this?"

This time the man punched him in the face. "You are not allowed to ask questions. You only answer them."

During the time that followed, the man either taunted Tim for his weakness, forcing him to agree, or simply beat him without reason or mercy. This lasted for the next two days, but for Tim it seemed unending. The pain he felt at every moment, even during the brief periods in which he was allowed to rest, became all that he knew. It felt like the man was doing it for the fun of hearing him scream. However, Monday came, and the procedure changed. The man took Tim down from the wall and dropped him to the floor. The release from the constant pain was so sudden that Tim actually forgot what it meant at first. Just as he was beginning to relax a little, he heard a voice right next to his ear. He tried to back away, but he couldn't. He couldn't get away from that voice.

"Now, it's time to have fun. You're all mine. No one knows where you are. No one cares about you."

"Where's McGee?" Gibbs asked when he saw McGee's desk. It didn't look quite right to him. There were elements out of place, but he couldn't put his finger on what was missing besides McGee himself. Then, he noticed the garbage can was dented and dirty. Tim's chair showed signs of being dirty as well. That wasn't like Tim to leave his area in such disarray.

"Still showering probably," Tony joked. However, seeing Gibbs' expression, he continued more seriously, "I haven't seen him since Friday, boss. He was still working on the Dobson files."

"Call him. I want to know why he's not here."

Ziva interjected, "Did you check your email? Maybe he sent another sick note."

Gibbs leaned over and checked. "Nothing. Call him."

As Tony took out his phone and dialed Tim's number, he heard someone calling his name. "Hey, DiNozzo! You got a package. Actually, you all got one. From the same place," Jack, the mail carrier, called out from the elevators.

"From whom?" Tony asked, sounding a little wary. The last anonymous package he had opened had nearly killed him.

"It says it's from some video store. It's marked urgent."

"I'm not opening it." He listened to the rings on the other end of the line. "He's not answering, boss."

"It passed the scans," the mail man insisted.

"So did the last one, Jack. I'm not opening it."

"What do you want me to do with it, then? Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs was silent, considering for a moment. Then, he extended his hand for his package and opened it. Tony managed not to flinch while Ziva smirked a little at his expression. There was no powder this time, just a video with "Where's McGee?" written on it. They all went silent. He went to the VCR and shoved the video inside.

The image was of an empty room. No one was on the screen, but there was a voice, distorted to the point that it was impossible to tell even whether it was male or female. "Hello, NCIS. I have a movie for you to watch. It's sure to engage your attention."

The camera swung around, out of focus, to a figure seated in a chair. Slowly, the image sharpened to reveal McGee blindfolded, tied to a chair. It went blank briefly, but then the team watched without expression as the beating started, although Tony winced when Tim was hung from the hook and started screaming. It went on for what seemed like forever. There was no other pause to indicate that there was any time lapse between the beatings. Gibbs reached over and fast forwarded to the end of the tape. The voice was back.

"Just try to find him. We'll be in touch." Then, the video ended.

Gibbs turned around to look at Ziva and Tony. Even Ziva's face showed a measure of shock. Before he could say anything, Abby ran into the room in a panic.

"Gibbs! I just got a video that had McGee's name on it! I put it in and watched it, and it was of McGee getting beat up! I didn't know what else to do so I kept watching. It was terrible, and I don't know what to do. Gibbs, what do I do? Why did they send this without any sort of demand? You have to watch it!"

Gibbs grabbed Abby by the shoulders and shook her gently. She finally stopped talking. "We already saw it, Abbs. They sent us a copy, too."

"Who did this?"

"I don't know. Is there anything you can do in your lab?"

Now focused, Abby broke away from Gibbs and started pacing back and forth in front of Ziva and Tony.

"I can try to remove the distortion on the voice. Maybe I can isolate some details about the room he's being... held in. I'll get started." She took the tape and dashed away to her lab.

"I'll contact the post office and see if we can track where the packages were dropped off," Ziva said.

"Check on the name of the video store as well. It's probably fake, but see if you can track it down. Tony, you come with me to McGee's apartment. Let's see if we can figure out how long he's been gone."

"Right, boss."

As they rode over to Tim's apartment, both were silent. If this was as real as it looked, it was serious. They pulled up and saw Tim's car in the parking lot.

"He made it home at least," Tony observed.

They climbed the steps to the apartment, but the door was closed and locked. The door mat had been pushed out of the way. Tony bent down and picked the lock. The apartment was chaos. The shelves had been pushed over; the books were strewn across the floor. Every drawer and cupboard were opened, the contents shuffled around. Tim's typewriter had been knocked to the floor and broken.

"What were they looking for?"

Gibbs knelt on the floor and looked up at Tony. So far he hadn't said a word. He held up what he had found there.

"McGee's gun. The safety's off and it's cocked," Tony said.

"He knew something was wrong, right when he got home. It must have been Friday night," Gibbs said, finally speaking.

"How do you know?"

Gibbs pointed at McGee's bag, its contents dumped on the floor as well. It was still muddy, although by now the mud had dried and flaked onto the floor. The floor was dirty where he must have walked into the room, but the dirt only went a few feet.

"McGee would never have left his stuff muddy like that," Tony agreed. Then, he looked a little to Gibbs' left. "That looks like blood."

Gibbs turned and saw the spot. Wordlessly, he took a sample for testing.

Tony started walking through the apartment. "It must have happened fast. I don't see any bullet holes and no police bulletins have gone out. We would have known. He saw something out of place? Maybe someone? He drew his gun, and they snuck up on him and coshed him on the head or something like that."

Together, they began to dust for fingerprints and search for any remnant left by McGee's kidnapers. The only fingerprints were Tim's and there seemed to be no evidence of a struggle.

"Who would go after McGee? What does he have that they want? It couldn't be for this last case. And I don't think anyone besides Ziva and I could hate him for his book," Tony wondered aloud.

Gibbs, who had reverted back to silence during their examination of the apartment, stood and looked around. It seemed wrong that McGee's place should be trashed like that. For all his faults, McGee was so organized with what he did that this seemed capricious and cruel.

"Boss? What do you think? What were they looking for?"

Suddenly, Gibbs realized that there was no rhyme or reason to how the apartment had been trashed. "Nothing."

"Nothing? Why trash his place then?"

"I don't know, but as you said, there's no reason to take McGee. At least, no reason related to his personal life. It must have been work related. They just trashed it to confuse us."

"The old gut kicking in?"

Gibbs didn't respond. His phone rang.

"Gibbs."

"Gibbs, get back here right away."

"What is it, Abby?"

"I think I found something on the tape. It's a web site or something. I'm trying to clear it up right now. I'll have it done by the time you get back."

"Right." He hung up. "Abby thinks she might have found something on the tape."

"Great."

When they got back, Ziva was watching as Abby began typing in the web address. She turned around, triumphant, "I told you I'd have it done by the time you got back."

"What's the site?"

"I don't know. It's a personal homepage. It's loading now."

The site was nothing but a blank page with a link which read, "Where's McGee?". Abby looked at the others and then shrugged and clicked. It forwarded them to a live video feed. McGee was laying on the ground gasping in pain. His face was bloody and his clothes were torn. They watched as a man wearing a mask knelt by McGee and leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

"Is there any sound Abby?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah, let me enhance it a bit."

"–no one cares about you."

They watched as the man stood and walked out of the shot. McGee backed away from the sound. Blindfolded, he simply pushed himself backward until he hit the wall. Then, there was a sound of metal scraping on the floor and the man was back, dragging a tub filled with water. When he had it centered in the frame, he straightened and walked back to McGee, standing over him.

He said, derisively, "This is the best you can do, Probie? You're pathetic. No wonder they make fun of you all the time. You're more worthless than DiNozzo says. They all think of you that way at NCIS; you know that don't you?"

McGee didn't answer. The man kicked him hard. "I asked you a question."

"No."

The man kicked him again. "I don't like being contradicted."

"They don't think I'm worthless."

Again, he kicked Tim. "Wrong, Probie. Everything you do is wrong. You can't do anything right. You investigate a murder and fail to stop the killer from murdering your only witness. You kill an undercover police officer. You send your boss to a slumber party instead of the person you're tracking. You chase a subject and fall down a hill instead of catching him. That doesn't sound like a successful track record to me."

"I did things right," McGee whispered.

"I told you not to contradict me." The man dragged McGee over to the tub and shoved his head into the water. As Tim started to struggle against the hands holding him down, the man looked right into the camera. Since he was masked, the observers couldn't see his expression, but every one of them knew he was smiling. Then, he pulled Tim up and asked, "Do they think you're worthless?"

"No," Tim gasped.

"Wrong answer." Down he went again. When he pulled him up, he asked, "Well?"

"No," he said, but more faintly. He was dunked again. This went on for awhile longer until finally, when the man pulled him up, McGee shouted, "Yes! Yes, yes, please!"

Tony heard Ziva sigh. He tore his gaze from the screen and raised his eyebrows at her.

"That's it," she said. "Whatever this man wants from McGee, he's going to get it."

Everyone turned to Ziva, now. "Why do you say that?" Abby asked.

"His interrogator got him to agree. It doesn't matter what he agreed to. McGee will start to believe that if he does what the man asks him, he won't be punished. McGee's not strong enough to withstand even this rudimentary torture. Eventually, he'll break down."

"Maybe we should find him before that happens then," Gibbs remarked.

"What do you suggest? The post office tracked the packages to a drop-off box. I checked on the video store. It doesn't exist. Abby has only got this website. Did you find anything at McGee's apartment?" At Tony's silence, she continued, "Unless we can figure out what they want, I don't see that we have any leads. This," she gestured at the screen, " is a dead end. They're only doing this to distract us."

"I don't give up that easily," Gibbs said. "We've just started and I don't want to hear any of that from you again. Find out how this guy knew all those things about McGee. He must have access to this office somehow." He walked out.

At the stares from Tony and Abby, Ziva said, "What? You know I'm right. It's not wrong to put things in perspective."

Abby simply turned back to the video still playing on the screen. McGee was now lying on the floor coughing and gasping for breath. He lay limply, not moving much. The man was not present. Instead of watching though, she went back to the video running the distorted voice, trying to distill the original tones. She ignored the presence of the two agents behind her, focusing intently on her work. Tony just looked once more at the image of McGee on the floor. For a moment, his face was full of anguish. That man could have been quoting things he'd said to McGee more than once. Then, he covered his feelings, and he and Ziva headed back up to their desks.

Once they got there, Gibbs looked up. "Ziva, I want you to watch both the video and the site. Look for anything in their procedure that might indicate a place of origin."

"They're not experts; I can tell you that right away. Cruel, yes. But an expert interrogator would have broken McGee in five minutes. This man knows how to cause pain, but only crudely."

"Fine, get going on it and tell me when you know more. Tony, get the security tapes for the last few weeks and see if anyone was hanging around our desks more than usual. Someone has been listening to too many conversations."

Ziva went back down to Abby's lab and took over a monitor for her analysis. Abby ignored her. Tony was watching the security videos. Every so often he glanced over at McGee's desk. This type of thing was usually his job. It was ironic that they needed the person they were trying to find so much right now. Gibbs went up to Jenny's office.

"Any leads so far?"

"Not really. We've only known he was missing for a few hours. We know he's alive right now, but not where he is."

All business, Jenny said, "Need I remind you, Agent Gibbs, that McGee knows enough about our system here to pose a very serious threat to national security."

"I'm aware of that, _Director._ However, we can't stop him from divulging that information unless we find him."

"I'm as concerned about McGee as you are, Jethro, but there are other cases going on right now. Criminals don't wait until it's convenient."

"Then, I guess we'd better find him as quickly as possible, hadn't we?"

"Did the other crew find anything useful at McGee's apartment?"

"Nothing that DiNozzo and I hadn't already discovered. No fingerprints besides McGee's. Nothing seems to have been taken, not even his laptop. They weren't robbing him. Whatever they want, it wasn't at McGee's apartment."

"Then, it wasn't personal."

"Most likely not."

"Then, they wanted something from here."

"Probably."

"What?"

"I don't know yet. We'll find out."

Jenny's voice finally softened. "No arguments this time, Jethro. Do what you need to."

"Thanks, Jen." Gibbs left.


	4. Breakdown

**Chapter 4**

McGee's captor allowed him no sleep. Every so often, if he started drifting off, he'd walk by and kick him. As the day progressed, McGee began to unwind a little. This man, whoever he was, had left him alone, more or less, for quite awhile now. Maybe it was over. Ironically, just when he was thinking this, the man came up to him and kicked him, knocking the wind out of him. While McGee was gasping for breath, he dragged him to the hook again. This time, he turned on a hose, drenching his captive in icy cold water. Then, he picked up an implement that looked like a cattle prod. Tim was aware only of the renewed pain in his shoulders until the man touched him with the prod. Immediately, he screamed from the electric current that ran through his body. It wasn't nearly enough to kill him, but it caused great pain.

"You're weak, Probie." Another stroke from the prod. "You don't even deserve the title you have." Another touch. "That's why no one has come for you yet." Again. "They're glad you're gone." And again.

With every sentence, Tim tried to say no. He tried to disagree, but he couldn't get the word out of his mouth. He knew that if he went against what the man was saying, he'd be punished more and probably worse. He didn't think he could bear it. He just wanted it to be over.

"You're right!" he shouted, hardly aware of the words before he said them.

The man stopped. "What?"

"You're right! I'm weak. They're better off without me. They hate me. Please, please, just stop!" McGee begged, tears streaming down his face.

"Even Abby?"

Tim hesitated, but hesitation cost him as much as disagreement. The man touched him with the current again. He screamed.

"Even Abby! They all hate me! They're glad I'm gone!" Tim shouted everything he could think of. Anything to make the man stop.

"Good, Probie." The man stopped and walked away. He was still hanging on the hook, but the shock was gone. Anything was an improvement, he thought. However, after hanging for a few more hours, his arms felt like they were on fire. Finally, tentatively at first, Tim started to try and lift the rope around his wrists off the hook. He stood up as straight as he could. It wasn't enough. He slumped, groaning at the renewed pressure, but too exhausted to stay in that position. After awhile, he tried again. He stood up as tall as he could and tried to lift his arms higher. The agony was so intense he couldn't even scream. He just gasped. Then, just as he thought he could get the rope off the hook, he felt a blow to his arm, just below the elbow. He screamed and sagged. Mercilessly, the man hit him with the crowbar again and again until he'd broken both bones in Tim's right arm. It hurt so much that, again, Tim couldn't do more than gasp from the pain.

"I thought we had an understanding, Probie." After each sentence, the man hit him with the crowbar. "I thought you didn't want this to go on anymore." Strike. "You're worse than I thought." Strike. "You're not only weak, but you're a liar, too." Strike. "You betrayed yourself." Strike. "I didn't want to have to do this." Strike. "You made me." Strike.

Whimpering, Tim couldn't reply. He just sagged. The pain was too intense to combat it in any way. After what seemed an eternity, the man took him down from the hook and dropped him unceremoniously on the floor. Before Tim could relax, the man kicked him savagely in the stomach. Tim retched although he hadn't eaten anything in days. Unbeknownst to him, the man walked up to the camera.

"Haven't you found us, yet? Is this the vaunted the prowess of NCIS? I'm disappointed," he said, his voice distorted. Then, he laughed and walked out of the shot, leaving them only the view of McGee's body, trembling with pain and exhaustion.


	5. Jack: A link?

**Chapter 5**

"I was too hasty before," Ziva said. "This man knows what torture is. He's taking it at the pace necessary to keep McGee from passing out. He's using sensory and sleep deprivation to lessen McGee's resistance to whatever he's going to do next. The torture is enough to keep McGee in pain, but not enough to give him the release of unconsciousness. He doesn't just want information. He needs McGee to do something for him. Something that requires McGee's mental capacities intact."

"Abby? Anything?" Gibbs asked.

"This voice manipulator is good, but I'm getting rid of some of the distortions. There's no discernable accent that I can see. He's probably from the U.S. or has lived here most of his life." There was only a trace of a tremor in Abby's voice. So far, she'd managed to hold it together pretty well, but her control was fading. As she continued giving the litany, her voice got higher and more emotional. "But even when I sharpened the background, it doesn't look like anything important. It could be a shed, a warehouse, a basement, anything. They covered all the details. There's a cement floor and the room is pretty big, judging by the echoes. I can't get any details off the man himself because of the mask and the fact that he's all in black. There's nothing to enhance. I can't help him, Gibbs! I'm stuck! Maybe if McGee were here–" she stopped, her voice choked with tears. Gibbs walked over to her and pulled her into a hug. She held onto him fiercely while Ziva watched impassively. She knew better than to interrupt this, but she couldn't help feeling both a little annoyed at the delay and a little jealous at Gibbs' response to Abby's breakdown. He treated Abby like the daughter he'd lost.

Then, Abby stepped back. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

"Good. I need you to look through McGee's files and see if there's anything he'd found in his files that someone might kidnap him for."

"Aye, aye, sir!" She managed a smile. Gibbs smiled back and walked out, Ziva in tow.

"Anything, Tony?"

"Possibly, boss. You know that this is McGee's area of expertise–" he paused. "But I found only three people besides the team that frequented our area of the office more than usual. Jack, the mail guy, Agent Lee, she was usually talking to McGee, and Director Shephard."

"Show me Jack."

Where McGee would have had it there in seconds, Tony took a minute or two to connect his computer to the larger screen and then isolate the times when Jack was around. They all felt his absence more strongly even during that short time. What it revealed was that Jack often lingered, just out of sight, after delivering all the mail. He was not obviously listening in, but he was always there, every day for the last three weeks. He'd make himself ostensibly busy by organizing his mail. When someone talked to him, he'd chat, but he would then stay longer. In fact, the times he hadn't been there were when the team was gone during mail delivery. Gibbs looked grim.

"Get Jack in here."

"Gladly, boss," Tony said as he and Ziva headed out.

Gibbs picked up his phone. "I need to speak with Agent Lee, please. She's where?"

As he spoke, the elevators opened and Agent Lee stepped out. She headed over to McGee's desk and only stopped when she saw Gibbs.

"Agent Gibbs! I didn't see you there."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for Agent McGee. Is he around?"

"Why?"

Agent Lee sounded a little confused at the questions, but she answered, "McGee and I have been trying to get a break on the embezzling case. I was looking through the bank records we've found while he was trying to crack the Dobson files. He asked me for any information about the bank files we'd found."

"Any luck?"

"Not so far. He was getting really frustrated with it. Last time I talked to him–"

"When was that?" Gibbs interrupted.

"Friday night, late. He said that he felt like the answer was right in front of him but that he was too stupid to figure it out."

"How late?"

"Probably around 10:30 or so. He was still here." She paused. "Is something wrong, Agent Gibbs? Where's McGee?"

"He's been kidnaped. We think it had something to do with one of his cases. How serious was the embezzling case on your end?"

"It was pretty minor. I'm the only one working on it at the moment. McGee offered to help. He said that two heads were always better than one. He said that since we were both working on the same thing it made sense to collaborate. We weren't successful, but we tried. As far as I've found, whoever was in charge of it would have had a short sentence. The physical evidence doesn't show a large operation. It seems pretty amateur, actually."

"Thanks. If you think of anything or find anything else, give me a call."

"I will. Is there anything else, Agent Gibbs?"

"No. Not right now."

Agent Lee left the files she had for Tim with Gibbs although he had no idea what was in them. He took them down to Abby so she could decipher them; then, he went up to the interrogation room where Jack was waiting. He walked in and sat down across from the innocuous-looking young man. He didn't say a word for a few minutes. Jack looked more and more uncomfortable, but he was silent as well. Finally, Jack asked, "What's going on, Agent Gibbs? Why am I here?"

"How long have you worked at NCIS, Jack?"

"Uh, going on two years now."

"You're going to school?"

"Yes, sir. I'm trying to get into law school."

"Is it expensive?"

Jack hesitated.

"Is it expensive?" Gibbs repeated.

"Of course. College is always expensive. I have student loans like you wouldn't believe."

"Is that why you committed treason?"

Jack looked shocked. "Whoa. Treason? How did I commit treason?"

"You aided and abetted the kidnaping of a federal employee. You gave information that has been used in his interrogation. That's treason. Do you know what the penalty is for treason?"

"Hey! I'm no traitor. I didn't do any of those things. I just work in the mail room."

"You work in the mail room and eavesdrop on the private conversations of NCIS agents."

Jack was silent.

"Well?"

"Okay, I eavesdrop, but it's not that hard. You guys aren't that quiet. It's not like they're big secrets. Everyone knows how you guys treat each other. I haven't done anything wrong."

"Really?"

"Really. I find the stories interesting is all."

"And you never tell anyone about them?"

Again, Jack was silent.

"I don't like being lied to, Jack. Who did you tell?"

"It's not a big deal!"

Gibbs voice was soft, but all the more menacing for it. "Who did you tell, Jack?"

Jack caught the edge in Gibbs' voice. He swallowed. "It-it was just this guy."

"What guy?"

"He-he heard me talking to one of the mail guys at lunch. He said he was working on a story about employee interactions in federal offices. He wanted stories about teasing and joking that went on. I told him I heard all sorts of things when I was delivering the mail. He said he would pay me for the stories. He never asked for anything else. He just wanted to know about how NCIS was. I gave him stories from all sorts of people, but he liked the stories I told about your team the best. He would always ask for more from Agent DiNozzo and Agent McGee. He paid more for those stories."

"Didn't you ever ask why?"

"Yeah. He said it was because they would sell better. They were more convincing because of all the things Agent DiNozzo did to Agent McGee. Honest, Agent Gibbs, there was nothing else."

Gibbs stood up and walked to the monitor in the corner. He pushed play and the distorted voice of McGee's torturer filled the room. Jack looked away when he started hitting McGee.

"Does this look like nothing, Jack? Does this look convincing to you?"

Looking sick and pale, Jack said, "I didn't–I didn't know, Agent Gibbs. I swear I didn't know. He just said it was for a story. All he was doing was writing an article. Please, turn it off!"

Gibbs obliged. "How often did you meet him?"

"Once a week, maybe. He just wanted a few details. He said I'd be credited as an anonymous source since Agent DiNozzo might not like how the story made him look."

"What did he look like?"

"Um... he was maybe in his 40s. He had blond hair and brown eyes."

"Tall?"

"Not really. He wasn't short, but he was taller than you. He looked pretty built, too."

"How did he contact you?"

"He'd call me when he wanted more info. I just jotted down notes from the things I heard."

"Does he call you regularly?"

"I was only expecting him at the end of the week. He usually didn't call until then. Do you believe me, Agent Gibbs?"

"I believe you, Jack. You're going to give a complete description of that man to a sketch artist. If it's useful, maybe you'll get to go to law school after all."

"If not?"

Gibbs didn't answer. He simply held his gaze for a few seconds and then left the room. Behind him, Jack dropped his head to the table.


	6. Down to business

**Chapter 6**

"Alright, Probie. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Tim answered listlessly. He didn't care what he was supposed to be ready for. It was now Wednesday and the man had won, physically and mentally. He had no will to fight him. He was still blindfolded, so he didn't see the man walk to the webcam and turn it off. This was the part he did not want NCIS to see. Now he was ready to get down to business.

He began walking around Tim's prone body. "You were working on breaking into Lieutenant Dobson's files."

"I was?" This reminder of the outside world woke Tim up just a little. "Yes."

"What were you looking for, Probie?"

"Evidence to link him to an embezzling scheme."

"What had you found?"

"Nothing."

The man kicked McGee and then stepped on his broken arm. "What...did...you...find?" He emphasized each word with increased pressure on the broken bones.

Crying from the pain, Tim whimpered, "Nothing. I hadn't been able to break the encryption. I was working on it when you took me away." The pressure increased until Tim could feel the bone fragments being forced into his muscles. He screamed, "I was getting close, but I hadn't found the key yet!"

The man took his foot away. "I need you to find it. I need you to get into those files."

"I can't. I don't know what to do."

The man kicked him again. "You figure it out, Probie. Think about it while I get your equipment." He walked away and turned on the webcam again. Let NCIS see their agent whimpering and crying. Let them wonder what had happened during that blackout. Tim performed perfectly. Still crying, he curled into a fetal position with his arms still tied behind him, taking deep shuddering breaths. His clothes were little more than rags and there was crusted blood on his face along with the bruises and cuts. The last two days had not been kind to him.


	7. Coincidence?

**Chapter 7**

Gibbs watched with relief as the video started up again. Tim was whimpering and crying on the floor. The man came by briefly and kicked him in the stomach, causing him to retch again. This was so painful to watch. "How long was the feed out, Abby?"

"About 10 minutes."

"Is it still live?"

"Yes."

"Why would he turn off the feed when he's been showing us everything he did?" Gibbs asked. Then, before Tony could answer, he said, "Because he was asking him questions he didn't want us to know. He's getting started then. Has there been any word from Jack's contact?"

"Not yet, boss. He said that he expected a call today or tomorrow."

"I've narrowed down the cases that McGee was working on to two. One is the Dobson case. So far, it doesn't seem too promising, but it does have one thing in its favor."

"What's that?"

"The encrypted files. People don't usually just encrypt files for fun. There has to be a reason for it. And these encryptions were _really_ good. McGee doesn't get stumped easily, and these had him stumped."

"What's the other case?"

"That murder-suicide down at the docks a month ago? There was a possible connection to arms smuggling that McGee was tracking for the Navy. It had stalled because of lack of evidence, and Director Shephard pulled him off it when Lieutenant Dobson was killed. Those are the only two where McGee had a major part of it that might be cause for kidnaping." Abby didn't mention that she had seen how frustrated he had been with the Dobson case and how badly he felt that he wasn't able to do more. He'd always felt more confident with the technological aspects of his job and now he was letting NCIS down by not making progress.

The phone rang. It was Ziva. "Jack just signaled that his contact called him. He wants to know what to do."

"Keep him on the phone as long as possible, but make sure he sets up a meeting," Gibbs said.

"Right."

"Abbs, see if you can make any progress on those files."

"Which case?"

"Both."

"Gibbs!"

"Just do your best, Abby." He was gone. Abby turned back to her computer. She glanced up at the monitor with McGee's video.

"Hold on, McGee," she whispered.

Gibbs walked into the office. Jack was talking on the phone. He sounded a little nervous now that he knew the man he'd been dealing with was a kidnaper.

"That sounds great, Shawn. How about I get a little extra? Come on, you said I've been helpful. Doesn't your budget cover that?"

"Jack, you know I have limited funds until I get the article published. Do you have anything good?"

"I have lots of good stuff. There've been a few tiffs lately, and I was able to hear some juicy details." He looked at Ziva, a little panicked. She nodded to encourage him.

"My schedule has become a little tighter than I had expected. Could we meet to discuss this tomorrow?"

Jack looked at Ziva and then at Gibbs and Tony as they came in. She nodded.

"Great. Will you give me my money from last week?"

"Of course. Meet me at the café down the street from NCIS at 1:30."

"Will do. See you tomorrow, Shawn."

"Bye."

Jack hung up and sighed with relief. "Did I do okay?" he asked.

"You did fine, Jack," Ziva said. "That's just what we need."

"Did we track the call?"

"We got it down to a neighborhood, but nothing solid. It's either a pay phone or a cell."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't think of anything else to say. Our calls were usually short, just long enough to set up a time and place to meet. He likes doing these things in person."

"It's alright, Jack." Gibbs turned to Tony. "I want you to go over every aspect of the Dobson case. See if you can find anything, and Ziva, take our friend here to the interrogation room, then go over that murder-suicide from about a month ago. I want to know if there's anything we missed in either case."

"Why do I have to go back to that room? I'm not going to sneak out."

"This way, you don't have to make a choice. You'll be here to help us." Gibbs headed down to the morgue.

"Ducky!"

"Jethro, any news yet on McGee?"

"Nothing good. Was there anything strange about the Dobson case that you recall?"

"Dobson... that was that lieutenant wasn't it?"

"Yes. Murdered three weeks ago."

"Right, yes. Well, as far as I recall, his death was pretty straightforward. Gunshot to head. However, there were some extra bruises. Not defensive wounds, but possibly done just before his death. There was significant bruising on the abdomen, consistent with repeated blows with a blunt instrument of some sort. Possibly kicking."

"What about the murder-suicide?"

"Well, that one posed some problems, and the agents in charge of the case thought there might be more to it. The two men died so close to the same time that it is impossible to tell which one died first. We assumed murder-suicide because of the type of wounds, but it is possible that both were murdered. It's difficult to tell at this stage." Suddenly, Ducky looked up from his report. "Interesting."

"What?"

"Well, I said that there was abdominal bruising on Lieutenant Dobson, but here's something that I hadn't noticed before."

When he didn't go on, Gibbs sighed. "What, Ducky?"

"Sorry. It looks as though one of the men had the same abdominal bruising."

"What about the other?"

"No. His body was relatively unmarred... beyond the mess he made of his head when he stuck the gun in his mouth. Sorry, I can't give you more than that."

"Any possibility that those bruises came from the same person?"

"There's a possibility, of course. The patterning is similar. Why?"

"Maybe these two cases are linked to McGee's kidnaping."

"Hmm... Let me look over these reports again. I'll compare the results and let you know about any other similarities."

"Thanks, Ducky."

"Don't mention it, Jethro. I just hope it helps find McGee."


	8. Another blackout

**Chapter 8**

"Need any help, Abby?"

Abby looked up, startled. "Ducky! What are you doing here?"

"Just trying to discern any links between the cases Timothy was working on and his kidnaping."

"I'm not making any progress. McGee already tried everything I would have. I keep looking over at the video. Why is he letting us see it?"

Ducky put his arm around her shoulders. "Probably to keep us off-balance. He's hoping that the sight of Timothy's suffering will keep us from seeing clearly the links that are in front of us." Ducky looked at Tim on the monitor. He had significant bruising on his arms and face, but his chest and abdomen also showed signs of recent damage. In fact... he left Abby and walked to the monitor.

"Abby, could you get a close up of McGee's torso?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I have a hunch."

She got the image. Seeing the bruising so magnified nearly made her ill. She'd seen things like this before, but never on someone she knew.

"Thanks, Abby." Ducky kissed her on the cheek. "Keep your chin up. We'll find him."

"Thanks, Ducky." She turned back to the monitor, but the video was blank. "Oh, no!"

"What?"

"He turned it off again. Why? What is he doing to McGee now?"


	9. Epiphany under duress

**Chapter 9**

"Okay, Probie. You're going to help me now." The man knelt down and cut the ropes binding Tim's hands then ripped off the duct-tape and fabric covering his eyes. Tim didn't move.

"Come on, Probie. Time to work." He kicked him in the ribs; when Tim still didn't move, he pulled him up by his broken arm and plunked him down in the chair. He then tied him to the chair and pushed the chair up to the computer. "I want you to hack into NCIS and get those files."

Mechanically, Tim started typing. He had a vague idea that he could do something to prevent this man from getting what he wanted, but his overriding thought was that if he did what the man said, he'd leave him alone. Just moving his broken arm caused sharp shooting pain, but he persisted, tears streaming down his face. It took some time for his eyes to adjust to the sudden light and he fumbled a bit on the keyboard, but he kept at it. NCIS was so familiar to him that it took very little time to get in. Once he was in, he got to his own files. He was staring blankly at the file names when he suddenly saw what he'd been missing in the encryption. The problem was that he'd been looking at them from a purely financial point of view. Lieutenant Dobson had been involved in a lot more than that. These files contained not only financial data from his embezzling scheme, but they also had lists of contacts and prices. Prices for what, he didn't know, but he kept working through the encryption, trying his best to get what was required.

The realization that he'd broken through Dobson's blocks sent a brief wave of awareness through his mind. Tim didn't dare glance around. He was afraid of what, or whom, he'd see. He also didn't want to attract attention. He was about to try something. If someone, hopefully Abby, was looking at his computer or at the files themselves, he could send some sort of message. If they saw it, they could possibly track his connection and find him. At this point, it wasn't that he wanted them to catch his torturer; his only thought was that maybe they could get him away. A few days earlier, he'd have been focused more on trying to get the guy arrested, but the torture had been effective and Tim didn't care how they saved him. He just wanted to be saved. Two extra keystrokes brought up a small text box. He didn't have time to think. Trembling, he typed, "help me" into the prompt and pushed enter. Then, without hesitation he continued working, albeit a little more slowly. Before he got very far though, the man came over, knocked over the chair he was in, untied the ropes, and rebound his hands and feet with no regard for Tim's broken bones. Tim held his breath, waiting for the man to realize what he'd done.

"I'm done with you for now, Probie. This is a good start. You might survive this yet." He replaced the blindfold and turned on the webcam and then kicked him a few times before leaving him alone. At first he was relieved that he had managed to do something without his captor knowing. Then, Tim groaned. What if no one saw his message? Had he been on long enough to actually get the message sent? Did he do it right? Through the haze of pain that clouded his mind, Tim couldn't be sure about exactly what he'd been doing.


	10. Connections

**Chapter 10**

"McGee?" Abby's voice came out of nowhere.

"What is it, Abbs?" Gibbs asked.

"I was starting to look through the Dobson files, and I thought for a second that someone else was in them too. Then, I got this." She showed Gibbs the message McGee had sent.

"Help? Nothing else?"

"No, and I couldn't track the source because the connection was severed too quickly, but if it was McGee and he gets on again, then I might be able to find out where he is."

"If he's hacking into NCIS, what are the odds he's sending messages as well?"

"It depends on what he was doing. I've been focusing on the Acton case until now."

"Drop it and go to the Dobson files."

"That may be a bit premature," Ducky said walking in the room.

"Why is that?" Gibbs asked.

"I think all three occurrences are related: the murder-suicide, the Dobson murder, and McGee's kidnaping."

"Why?"

"Well, look at these injuries. Notice anything?"

Gibbs squinted at the three images on the screen. "They're all bruises?"

"Yes, but I was referring to the pattern of bruising. This one is from Dobson; this is from Acton; and this is McGee. Each one of them is from a similar area on the torso and each one was inflicted using the same footwear."

"How did you figure that?"

"At high magnification," Ducky illustrated his point, "a tread pattern is revealed. It's the same boot, a steel-toed work boot to be precise. The wear on the sole is a match. I think that the same man has been going after all these people and now he's moved onto McGee."

"How bad were those bruises?"

"McGee's are the worst of the lot, but Dobson would have had some internal bleeding had he lived to feel it."

"Why kill them and keep McGee alive?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, I–" Ducky was interrupted by the sudden resumption of the live feed. They were all treated to a view of the man kicking McGee again. They couldn't help but notice how little McGee was reacting to the treatment.

"Is he still alive, Ducky?" Abby asked. Then, Tim groaned a little and twisted his body, obviously trying to find a more comfortable position.

The man's face filled the screen. "Haven't found him yet, huh? I'm getting a little disappointed at your ineptitude. If you don't hurry up, all you'll find is a corpse." He left the screen and McGee reappeared.

"He's trying to goad us into making mistakes," Ducky observed, although his voice was a little shaky.

"Abby, I want you parked on those Dobson files. If McGee hacks in again, track the signal. I don't care how long you have to wait." Gibbs started to leave.

"Wait, Gibbs! What about the others?"

"Keep it up, but focus on the Dobson files. I have a feeling that's where we'll get the break if this thing with Jack doesn't pan out tomorrow." He walked out, followed closely by Ducky.

"Great." Abby looked briefly at McGee. He wasn't getting any sleep either, she reminded herself.

"Gibbs."

"Yes, Ducky?" Gibbs turned and saw Ducky looking uncommonly serious.

"I don't want to do another autopsy on someone I know, Jethro."

"You won't have to. We'll find him. Alive. That's a promise."

"Good." Satisfied, Ducky headed back to the morgue. He flashed back to Kate's death and shuddered. He never wanted to see something like that again.

The next day, NCIS agents were concealed near the café, disguised as regular patrons. Obvious by their absence were Ziva, Tony and Gibbs. They had to assume that these people knew what they looked like and would not risk losing the one lead they had by being marked. Jack was looking nervous, despite, or maybe because of, Ziva's advice. Gibbs was convinced that this guy was an idiot but not dangerous although he didn't want to think of this kid becoming a lawyer. He sighed and focused on the scene. They hadn't dared give him a wire. Instead they used amplification to eavesdrop on the conversation. If possible, they wanted to follow Jack's contact to wherever McGee was being held.

"Jack, you're late."

"Sorry, I was held up in the mail room. Sometimes they don't want to let me out for lunch right on time."

"You seem a little nervous."

"I think some people might be catching on. You know the agent I told you about once, Gibbs?"

"Yeah. I remember him."

"He's been watching me, and he's not someone I want mad at me. I've seen him yell at his team. Sometimes he makes them wait for him in the elevators so he can dress them down in private. When he stares at me, I want to hide."

"Don't worry. What you're doing isn't illegal, and you'll be an anonymous source."

"I know. How much of this do you really need though? It seems like lots of stories for a single article."

"I have to have a wide selection in order to pick out the best ones. Here's the money from last week."

"Thanks."

As Jack began to tell the stories he'd been collecting, deliberately avoiding any from Gibbs' team, Shawn began to get disinterested.

"What about that Agent Gibbs? Do you have any good stories from his team?"

"Not lately. They haven't been at their desks for the last few days. I think it's because one of their team is missing. They've been working 24/7 to get him back from what I can tell."

"Really? That kind of loyalty could be useful. What are they doing?"

"I don't know. But that's information about an actual case. You said you weren't going to ask for that stuff. That _would_ be illegal."

"Well, are they making progress?" His voice was getting more insistent.

"I don't know. I told you they're not at their desks much. They just seem worried."

Gibbs spoke into his mike. "He's getting suspicious. I don't think we're going to be able to tail him. All units prepare to move in. Wait for my signal."

"Ready."

Glancing around, Shawn said, "Jack, I think you're not being honest. Why?"

"I'm being honest, Shawn. I just don't like the idea of trying to get information about a case. That would be a federal offense if they found out."

He was definitely suspicious now. "Why would they find out?"

Gibbs whispered, "All units, move in. Make sure Jack gets clear."

"All units, move in. Repeat: all units move in."

They watched as Jack was pulled out of the way and Shawn was taken down by one of the NCIS agents.

"Wow!" Tony said. "That was impressive."

Ziva shrugged. "It was okay, but I don't know that we have enough to hold him."

Gibbs answered, "We do."

"Whatever you say, Gibbs."


	11. Today's the day

**Chapter 11**

McGee groaned. He was tied to the chair again. His eyesight was blurry, and he couldn't focus very well. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and he had a hard time holding it up.

"Okay, Probie. Today's the day. I know that you've hacked into the FBI before."

"Yes, once or twice," he mumbled.

"I need you to get into this file number and delete it."

"Delete it? Why?" McGee asked, momentarily forgetting about asking questions.

The punch nearly knocked the chair over again. "Don't ask questions, Probie. Just do it."

"I can't."

"I will not accept your excuses." The man punched him again; this time the chair fell over. Tim hit his head on the floor. Stars danced in front of his eyes as blackness crept in. Suddenly, he felt pressure on his broken ribs and the pain cleared his vision. "You'll do it, Probie, or there's no reason to keep you alive."

"I'll do it! I'll do it," Tim screamed and the man righted the chair.

"Then, get on it." He stalked away and started talking to someone else. Tim could hear him arguing, but he couldn't hear any responses. He must be on a phone.

"I don't care. I'm in charge now. You passed up on my offer once. If you want them, you'll do it my way. Otherwise, you can find another source, and I have the power to make that difficult. Right, at the end of the pool. I'm not fooling around here. You're not there, your loss." Suddenly, he was right at Tim's ear. "Are you working, Probie?"

"Yes, yes. I'm working," he answered. The man clouted him on the head. The chair wobbled dangerously. Then, he walked away.

Working more slowly than ever, Tim tried to focus on the screen. The words kept swimming out of focus. He was having a hard time thinking at all, let alone getting through the FBI's security. He'd done it before, yes, but that was when he was at his best and not facing imminent death. Tim had resigned himself to the fact that he'd probably die before Gibbs would find him, if he was even looking for him. He just wished that death would come sooner rather than later. He hurt so much. He looked vacantly at the monitor, not really seeing anything. Suddenly, he realized what he'd been staring at: a webcam. It was attached to the monitor. It wasn't on at the moment. Tim reached out to touch it and see if it was real. His captor noticed the movement knocked him onto the floor again. This time, he untied the ropes and threw the chair away.

"You want to be famous, Probie? I can do that for you." He reached over and turned on the webcam again. He pulled Tim over to the wall again, tied his hands together and pulled him up to the hook. He began to hit him as hard as possible. All Tim could do was moan. He didn't have the energy to scream. "Is this what you want, Probie? Is it?"

"No, no," he whispered.

"Fine. You stay there until you're ready to be helpful again. This is your last chance, Probie. One more screw up and I'm done trying to be nice." The man turned and walked away.

Tim willed himself to pass out, to get away from the agony, but it wasn't working. He looked toward the webcam which was still on. He whispered over and over again, "Help me. I can't fight him anymore." His head dropped.

"Come on, Tim. Give me something," Abby said to the monitor, tears in her eyes. Ducky had his arms around her shoulders. Watching him sag, Abby began to fear that she was going to have to actually watch him die. Then, he struggled to stand upright again. He looked blearily off the screen and then back to the camera.

"Gibbs, Abby... anyone," His voice was choked with tears. "FBI file: 65D...297...0EH." Tim stopped, gasping for a minute. "I think. I don't know. Can't remember anymore." He paused again and sagged. Then, he pushed himself upright again. "Check Dobson. There's more..." he trailed off looking warily at the man returning to the room. "Find me, please," he begged.

"Are you ready to help me, Probie?"

"Yes." It came out as a sob.

"Good." The webcam went off again.

"I can't stand this, Ducky."

"I know, Abby. Does that number mean anything to you?"

"No. I'll look it up though." When she did so, it came up empty. The number was wrong. "Nothing."

"Can you find the file from the numbers you have?"

"I don't know. It's alphanumeric and there are tons of possible combinations, assuming that he got the numbers and letters themselves correct. If any of them are wrong, that adds more possibilities."

"But you can try?" Ducky asked gently.

"Yes. I can try."

"Good. That's all you need to do."


	12. What's lost is found

**Chapter 12**

"What am I being charged with? I have a right to know." Shawn was shouting at the mirror, knowing that someone was probably watching him.

Gibbs sat in silence, watching the man on the other side of the glass.

"What are you waiting for, boss?" Tony asked.

"I'm waiting until I know I won't kill him once I walk in the room."

"Would you like me to start?"

"No." Gibbs got up and left observation. Tony watched with apprehension as Gibbs entered the room.

"Sit down," he said.

"No! I have a right to know why I'm being held. If you aren't charging me with anything then I want to leave."

Gibbs walked up to the supposed journalist, mere inches from his face, and repeated, "Sit down."

He sat down.

"Thank you."

"What am I charged with?"

"For now? You're a terrorist."

"What? You're crazy. I'm leaving." Shawn stood up again and started toward the door. However, before he'd gone two steps, Gibbs grabbed him by the back of his shirt and forced him back into the seat.

"You do not move until I tell you to."

"This is harassment."

"You'd better believe it. Consider yourself lucky that I'm not doing to you what you helped your partner do to Agent McGee."

"What are you talking about?"

"You kidnaped a federal agent, stole personal data from a federal agency, and aided in the torture of a federal agent in order to extract information on current NCIS cases. You won't see the light of day for years... if you live that long."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you? Do you think your partner will back you up when we find our agent? He'll leave you to rot and I'll be more than happy to help if you don't make yourself useful."

"I have nothing to say."

For a full minute, Gibbs said nothing. He simply stared at Shawn. To his credit, Shawn held his gaze, almost impudently, never looking away. "Are you sure?"

Suddenly, Shawn's face went from confused to sly. "What? Can't you find him on your own?"

Gibbs' eyes hardened. "Where is Agent McGee?"

"I don't know, Gibbs. Why don't you ask _him_?" he sneered.

Gibbs stood and walked away. As he reached the door, Shawn added, "You'll be too late even if you do find him. He'll see you coming and your agent will be dead!"

Gibbs stopped. He walked back to Shawn, picked him up and slammed him against the wall. Some of the confidence faded from Shawn's face. "You'd better hope not because if McGee dies, you'll be next." He let go and left the room.

"Great restraint, boss."

Gibbs didn't answer. Tony followed him to the lab.

"What if his partner calls the cell phone we found on him? We could trace the call from there couldn't we?"

"Maybe. Abby, do you have anything?"

"Maybe. The man we're looking for might be Darius Robertson."

"Might be?"

"McGee tried to give some information over the webcam. He got the file number wrong, but this Robertson is the only hit I have so far. He was named as a person of suspicion by the FBI, possible connections to arms smuggling, but nothing solid so far. They'd been watching him, but he fell off the grid three years ago."

"What about our suspect in custody?"

Tony answered, "Ziva's running the photo and prints through the database as we speak. There was nothing in his car but computer parts. Nothing complete."

Ziva came into the lab. "His name is Leonard Bourdan. Dishonorably discharged from the Navy ten years ago for theft. He spent three years in prison. Guess who one of his bunk mates was."

Tony hazarded a guess. "Lieutenant Dobson?"

"Exactly."

"Do you have a current address?"

"Yes."

"Well?"

"On it, boss," Tony said. He and Ziva left

"Well?"

"What, Tony?"

"What do you think?"

"I think that if we find McGee at all, we'll be lucky. If we find him alive..." she trailed off.

"Then, why are you working so hard to find him?"

"It's my job, Tony. Besides, McGee doesn't deserve this."

"Hey, look at that." Tony had a sudden idea hit him.

"What?"

"Those warehouses over there. How close are we to Bourdan's place?"

"About three blocks. Come on, Tony. No one would be dumb enough to park themselves that close to their home."

"How dumb would it be? Would you expect someone to do it?"

"No."

"Then, it's not so dumb, is it. Besides, the phone call he made to Jack was from this area."

"He lives around here. We're supposed to be investigating the leads we actually have, not the wild... goose chases."

"Good job, Ziva. You got the idiom right. What does it hurt to look? We stop over on the way."

"Gibbs won't be happy."

"I'll tell him myself." Tony pulled out his cell phone and looked at Ziva. She sighed and turned into the abandoned lot. "Boss, there are some warehouses near Bourdan's place that look promising. We're going to stop there on the way. It's on me, boss. Okay, twenty minutes."

"This is foolish, Tony. Why bother?"

"Because at Bourdan's place, we're likely to find information about Bourdan. Maybe if we're lucky, we'll get a hint of where they've stashed McGee. On the other hand, these warehouses will either have nothing or McGee will be there. There's a lot more to gain."

"And a lot more to lose."

"We have to take risks sometimes, Ziva. I'm willing to risk it."

"Do you think McGee is?"

Tony froze, just briefly. "If we find him, then yes. If not, he'd hardly blame me for trying. Let's go, we're wasting our twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes later, they'd found nothing. The warehouses were all empty.

"And the verdict is nothing. We've wasted twenty minutes."

"Come on, there's only one more. Let's look." Tony sounded less confident and more of the worry he'd been feeling crept out in his voice.

Ziva put her hand on Tony's shoulder. "Tony, I want to find him, too. It might have been a good idea, but it didn't pan out. Let's just get going."

He shook her off. "No. One more." He strode off toward the last warehouse. Ziva sighed and followed.

------------------------------

"You're taking too long, Probie. You wouldn't be trying to get me caught, would you?"

"No, no. I'm trying..."

"Trying's not good enough." Robertson backhanded Tim across the face. "I'm on a schedule, Probie. You don't help me, you die."

-------------------------------

"Wait. Did you hear something, Ziva?"

"Like what?"

"I'm not sure."

"Tony..."

"I mean it. Come on."

-------------------------------

Robertson shoved over the chair in frustration at Tim's lack of progress. "Worthless! You're worthless, Probie. Why did I ever think you could be of use? Why did they even give you a job at NCIS? You can't do anything right."

"You're right. You're right. Please, no more."

"You don't deserve mercy." Robertson kicked him hard in the stomach. Still bound to the chair, McGee couldn't even move to stave off the attack. "Do you think you deserve mercy?"

"No!" Tim screamed.

------------------------------

"That was McGee. I'm sure of it."

"You're right." Ziva pulled out her phone and called it in. "Gibbs, we've found McGee. We're heading in now. Yes, in Tony's warehouses. Right."

"Let's go."

-----------------------------

Tim's eyes were nearly swollen shut. Every muscle screamed in pain. He tried to lay limply and let the end come. Suddenly, the blows stopped. He heard a gunshot but barely flinched as a bullet struck the ground near him. There were more shots and then a door slammed and he heard the sound of running feet. Then there was silence. He didn't move. He felt hands on the ropes binding him to the chair. He winced as the ropes came loose. Rather than crumpling into a heap on the ground, the same hands lowered him gently, but he cried out as the hands touched his broken arm.

"It's alright, McGee. Don't worry. Help's on the way." The voice was vaguely familiar, but Tim couldn't place it. It was just another ploy.

"No, please. Not anymore. I can't do it. I can't." He felt the hands again and tried to move away. "No more! Don't hurt me anymore!"

"McGee, it's okay. It's Tony."

Tim tried to open his black eyes. He saw a blurry shape in front of him. He tried to stand, but his limbs wouldn't respond. He backed away until he hit the wall. "I tried. I tried. I can't do anything right," he whispered. After a while, he sensed someone else was there. He looked toward the other shape, panicked and confused and pushed himself hard against the wall, trying to get away.

"McGee. The ambulance will be here soon. Just relax."

"Boss?"

"Yes, McGee."

Tim started weeping. "I'm sorry, boss. I didn't want to help him. I tried to stop, but I couldn't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Gibbs reached out and touched Tim's shoulder. "It's alright, Tim. You didn't do anything wrong."

Like a child needing reassurance, McGee reached out blindly. "You're not mad?" he asked fearfully.

Without losing a beat, Gibbs took his hand and squeezed it gently. "No, Tim. I'm not mad. I'm glad you're safe."

Finally reassured, Tim sagged and his hand dropped. Gibbs eased him carefully to the floor.

"Is he okay, boss?"

"Just asleep. He probably needs it." Gibbs' voice was oddly gentle. Ziva and Tony exchanged glances but didn't say anything.

The ambulance came a short time later. Without further ado, the EMTs assessed McGee's injuries, temporarily set the bones in his arm and loaded him in the ambulance. Gibbs got in with them and Tony and Ziva followed behind.

"Who's going to tell him that the guy got away?"

"Gibbs or McGee?"

"Either."

"I found him. You break the bad news."

"Thanks, Tony," Ziva said sarcastically.


	13. First awakening

**Chapter 13**

Consciousness returned slowly. It was definitely brighter than it had been. Had it really happened? He tensed a little as he heard someone in the room.

"Are you awake, McGee?"

"Boss?" McGee opened his eyes. It didn't help much. His eyes were still swollen making it hard to see.

"Who were you expecting?"

At the tone in his voice, Tim immediately curled in on himself. "N-no one, boss. I wasn't expecting anyone t-to b-be here."

Gibbs reached out and touched his shoulder. "I'm not mad at you, McGee."

"But I screwed up..." he sighed. "Just like Ziva said I would."

"McGee, that guy had you for nearly a week. You didn't give him everything he wanted, did you?"

"I-I don't remember. But, boss, I was trying to. I wanted to help him. It wasn't because I was strong that I didn't." Tim closed his eyes trying to block out the memories, and immediately opened them again. He didn't want to be in the dark. He settled for looking away from the blurry shape that was his boss. He couldn't figure out just why Gibbs was there at all. He had figured if there were any visitors, it would be Abby. No one else would be bothered.

"It doesn't matter, Tim. You did the best you could. No one can ask for more than that."

"How did you find me?"

"Tony had a hunch."

"Tony was looking for me?" The incredulity in his tone took Gibbs by surprise. Robertson had done a good job convincing him of what he had already half-believed.

"Of course he was. Everyone was looking for you."

Tim whispered, "Then, why didn't you find me?"

Gibbs couldn't answer. "I'll be right back."

"Okay." But as he watched Gibbs leave, he realized he'd be alone. He closed his eyes to block out the blurry images that kept turning into his captor. He felt a hand on his arm. "Don't hurt me," he whimpered.

"Don't worry, McGee. I wasn't going to."

Tim opened his eyes again. Of course, it would be Tony when he was acting like a little kid. "Hi, Tony." He tried to sound nonchalant. He failed miserably.

"How're ya doin'?"

"I've felt better."

There was an awkward pause. Tony had never been good at being comforting. McGee obviously could barely see through his black eyes. He was so loaded with painkillers than he probably wasn't feeling much. He squinted a little.

"How did you find me, Tony?" Tim asked suddenly.

"I had a hunch."

"That's what Gibbs said. How?"

"Well, Ziva and I were going to search a house and passed a bunch of abandoned warehouses. I thought it looked like a good place to look." McGee was still staring so Tony continued, "We decided to take twenty minutes to look through the warehouses and if there was nothing there, we'd continue on to the house. You were in the last one."

"The last one," he echoed. "What if you hadn't looked in it?"

Tony noticed his heart rate was increasing. He hurried to reassure him and said in a joking tone, "It's a good thing we did then, huh? I wouldn't have left the job half-done, McGee. I'm offended that you'd think that of me."

"I'm sorry, Tony," Tim said, yawning now. "I'm tired."

"Then, get to sleep. There's no reason to stay awake right now if you're tired. Think of it as a vacation."

"Right." Tony watched as McGee's eyes closed. Then, he stood and snuck out of the room. Gibbs was standing with the doctor.

"I'm not sure you understand the state of your agent. We weren't even sure we would be able to stop the internal bleeding. It was touch and go for far too long. He also had a concussion and some swelling on his brain. He's lucky he's not dead, Agent Gibbs."

"He still could be if we don't move him."

"This is a secure facility."

"Not secure enough. The guy who did this to Agent McGee is still out there. If he thinks McGee can identify him, he'll come after him again. Robertson has already killed three people."

"Agent McGee is not stable enough to be moved at this time. We'll need to wait at least another 24 hours before moving him. I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs, that's my final word on the matter."

"Fine." Gibbs turned and stalked toward Tony. "We don't leave McGee alone ever. Someone will be inside and outside his room at all times until I can convince that idiot to let us move him to a secure location. What's he doing right now?"

"Sleeping again."

"Good. I don't want him to know unless it's absolutely necessary. Even if he has to know that Robertson got away, don't tell him that Robertson was aiming at him, not at you and Ziva when you found him."

"Right, boss."

"I'll be in his room tonight. You be outside. Abby and Ziva can take over tomorrow."

"Okay. I'll tell them."

Gibbs walked back to McGee's room. Privately, Tony thought Gibbs was feeling the same way he was. There was a little guilt that the words they used to tease and berate McGee had been manipulated to torture and abuse his mind.

When Gibbs walked in the room, he noticed that McGee's eyes were wide open, at least as wide open as they could be as swollen as they were. McGee flinched away from him as he saw him approach.

"It's only me, McGee."

"Sorry, boss," Tim said, shamefacedly. "I can't see you very well right now."

"That's only because your eyes are swollen. They'll be back to normal soon enough."

"What day is it?"

"Saturday evening. Two days after we found you."

"That guy, he was working with Dobson and he has an FBI file."

"You told Abby that already."

"Abby was here?" Tim was confused.

"No, McGee," Gibbs answered patiently. "You said it to the webcam, remember?"

"It worked? I wasn't sure I'd actually done anything."

"We were watching almost the whole time you were gone."

Sounding more like himself, Tim muttered, "Oh, great." Again, he looked away from Gibbs. He didn't like looking at him. They sat in silence for awhile and Tim noticed that Gibbs was making no move to leave. Still looking away, he asked, "Boss?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you still here?"

"I finished my boat. I don't have much else to do right now."

"Boss, there's something wrong, isn't there."

Gibbs was impressed that McGee was thinking so clearly in spite of the painkillers and his injuries. "Yes, McGee. There's something wrong."

"What?" When Gibbs didn't answer, he persisted, "Please, boss. Not knowing will be worse."

"Okay, Robertson, the man who was holding you, got away."

McGee gave no reaction at first. He simply froze. He went pale, but he didn't move. However, this lack of reaction bothered Gibbs more than blind panic would have. Tim tried to speak, but his voice wouldn't work. He cleared his throat and tried again: "Is-is he c-coming after me again?" He mentally cursed the stammer that appeared to be taking over his speech.

"We don't know for sure."

"Boss."

"I mean it, McGee. We don't know. Robertson may be just laying low, but we don't know."

"I-I see." Tim tried to sit up, but even through the painkillers, he felt the sharp stab of pain through his broken ribs and arm. He winced.

Gibbs pushed him firmly back down. "Stay put, McGee. You won't help anything if you rip all your stitches out."

"Stitches?" Distracted, McGee began to feel his body.

"Yes, McGee. You had to have quite a few stitches as well as some surgery."

"Surgery?" He couldn't seem to do more than echo Gibbs' words.

"Yes, that's why I'm telling you to stay down. You'll be here for at least another day before we can move you to a more secure location. Just try to relax."

"I'm relaxed," he said, but he was wound tighter than a drum. Gibbs just smiled and sat back down in his chair. Tim realized now why he was there. Gibbs was his guard. That made him feel better and he did relax a fraction, enough to fall asleep again.

Tim woke in the middle of the night. The lights were off and he panicked. He sat up, ignoring the twinges of pain, and looked around wildly. Immediately, someone was by him. He was terrified and pulled away from the hands.

"McGee!"

"No, stay away! Don't touch me!"

"Tim, calm down! It's Gibbs."

Heedless of the embarrassment he'd no doubt feel later, Tim reached out blindly for Gibbs and held on to him as if he were a lifeline. He started crying again. "I-I thought–" The words stuck in his throat. "I thought I was back there."

Gibbs hugged him. "You're not, Tim. You're safe in the hospital. Don't worry." His voice was calm. He kept hold of Tim until his breathing slowed and the tears stopped. As soon as he was asleep again, Gibbs laid him back down on the bed. Then, he settled back in his chair. The door opened a fraction and then Tony stuck his head in.

"Everything alright, boss?" he whispered.

"Everything's fine."

"Okay. All's clear out here."

"Good."

There were no further disturbances in the night and Gibbs actually dozed a few times, an occurrence he'd never admit to anyone. When morning came around, Tim didn't stir. He slept like a log until nearly eleven. Abby and Ziva would be coming in at noon, and Gibbs wanted Tim to be awake to register the change. As if on cue, Tim groaned and shifted position a little bit. His eyes, when he opened them, were frightened. He still expected to be back in the warehouse. His gaze turned to Gibbs and Gibbs saw the inevitable embarrassment as Tim remembered what had happened during the night.

"Good morning, McGee. There'll be a shift change in an hour or so. Abby and Ziva will replace Tony and I. You may have other visitors as well, but they'll be on call. How are you feeling?" Gibbs kept his tone as brisk as usual and watched as the embarrassment faded slightly. He had no intention of reminding McGee of his nighttime terrors. He had enough problems here as it was.

"Uh, okay, I guess." He winced, giving lie to his words.

"How's your sight?"

"Better than yesterday, but still fuzzy. Does it look bad?"

"Of course it does, McGee. You have two black eyes. That never looks good."

"Right." He lapsed into silence. It was broken by the entrance of the doctor. McGee stiffened for a moment but relaxed as he looked at Gibbs and noticed no shift in his position.

"Good morning, Agent McGee. How are you feeling?"

"Okay."

Briskly efficient, the doctor checked his pulse, his stitches, his eyes and was out the door in twenty minutes promising another checkup later. By the time he left, Tim felt exhausted again. He sighed in relief as the door closed and nearly smiled at Gibbs before he remembered himself and looked away. Gibbs sighed softly. It had been hard enough in the past to get McGee to have confidence in himself. It looked like he had moved at least two steps backward, if not more. They sat in uncomfortable silence until Abby and Ziva showed up just after noon. Abby was effusive as usual.

"McGee! I'm so glad to see you." She hugged him and then apologized when he winced. "Sorry, I forgot."

"It's okay, Abby. I'm glad to see you, too." That at least was genuine. He saw Ziva behind Abby and said, more uncertainly, "Hey, Ziva."

"Hi, McGee. You look better than you did a couple of days ago."

"Thanks."

Never one to linger, Ziva said, "I'll be right outside if you need anything." She left, followed closely by Gibbs.

"How are you doing, Tim? I mean, really."

"Okay." He smiled mirthlessly. "Better than a couple of days ago."

Abby smiled more sincerely. "Everyone was so worried for you. Director Shephard let us focus solely on getting you back."

Tim didn't comment. His residual animosity for Tony, Ziva and even Director Shephard mingled in his mind with his recent experiences, leaving little room for belief in their concern. Abby continued talking at top speed the way she did when she was worried about something. It required no response and Tim was grateful both for that and for the background sound it gave. He paid only a little attention to Abby's words. Instead, he started going through what had happened in his mind. What had he seen in those files that helped him decode them? How had he known? What else was going on?

"McGee?" Abby waved her hand in front of Tim's vacant gaze. He jumped, startled.

"What? What?" he said a little breathlessly.

"Were you listening to me?" she asked indignantly.

"Not completely."

"Why not?"

"Well, it didn't seem to need my input, but it was nice to hear the sound of your voice," he smiled. After a moment of trying to look stern, Abby smiled too.

"You're lucky I like you, Tim. Otherwise, you'd be in trouble, injured or not."

"Lucky me."

The door opened again and Ducky came in, more hesitantly than Tim would have expected for a man who dealt with dead bodies all day. "Hello, Timothy. I hear you're on the mend."

"I would argue with that myself, but I suppose so. Come on in. Join the party," Tim said, his weak voice belying his jovial words.

The day passed relatively quickly for Tim who would doze off and wake as the mood took him to find either a conversation going on between Ducky and Abby or, more often than not, Ducky speaking randomly to no one in particular. Tim felt safe in their company. Sometimes when he woke up, Ziva was in the room instead of Abby, making him more uncomfortable, but generally it was Abby he saw. Even though they weren't dating anymore, he still had strong feelings for her and the fact that she had stayed with him meant a lot. Eventually, Ducky left saying that he had customers to attend to. Abby apologized a few times for monopolizing the conversations, but Tim told her that he'd rather just listen anyway. It was true. He didn't feel much like talking. In his mind, he was still trying to accept what had happened to him, not very successfully. Around eight that night, he felt asleep in earnest and didn't wake even when Gibbs returned to replace Abby. He had argued with the doctor about moving McGee, but had met continual roadblocks. He'd finally gotten the doctor to agree to release him in the morning. That still meant another long night. Oh well. Hopefully, this time McGee would stay asleep.


	14. Trauma

**Chapter 14**

Tim woke up to feel hands around his neck. He panicked and started thrashing, but he couldn't speak, couldn't scream. Then, he heard the voice he'd been dreading. "You're dead, Probie."

He got out a strangled squawk, but no one heard. Where was Gibbs? Lights danced in front of his eyes as he struggled for air. In desperation, he felt for his IV, pulled out the needle and jabbed it at the man's face. It was a weak thrust, but it distracted the man enough that he loosened his hold enough for Tim to draw a breath and shout for help. In seconds, someone else was in the darkened room and the hands disappeared from around his neck. Tim heard the sound of running feet, but he didn't pay attention. Instead, he slid out of bed and into the corner, hiding himself as much as possible. After some undefined passage of time, the door opened again and the light came on.

"McGee?"

Tim tried to make himself smaller, which was hard to do with his height.

"McGee? Where are you?"

Physically, he was still in the hospital room, but mentally he was trapped in the warehouse. He started mumbling to himself, his voice hoarse. "I can't do it. I can't. It's right there. I'm so close, but I can't see it."

"McGee." Tony knelt by Tim and looked a little weirded out. Gibbs knelt down, too, and shook him a little.

Tim didn't notice. "When will he come back? Will he see me? I can't get out. I can't get away. I can't do what he wants. Don't touch me! Leave me alone!"

"McGee! Look at me!" Eyes wild and unfocused, Tim turned his face to Gibbs.

"I can't do it! Please, just kill me. Please. Don't hurt me again."

"Tim, focus! You're not in the warehouse!"

Slowly, Tim started to come out of it. His first conscious thought was that Tony would be giving him grief for this. He was surprised to see Tony looking quite nearly as concerned as Gibbs did. Neither one looked annoyed.

"Are you okay?"

Tim cleared his throat and was frustrated that he was still stammering. "H-he t-tried to kill me."

"I know. How did you get him off you?"

"I-I couldn't think what else to do. I t-tried to stab him with my IV."

Tony laughed. "Not bad, Probie."

Tim backed away from him. "Don't call me that. Don't ever call me that."

Tony suddenly realized that Robertson had called him that. Genuinely contrite, he said, "Okay, McGee. I'm sorry. Calm down."

"Can you stand?"

"Yes," Tim said, although he wasn't sure he could. He started pushing himself up the wall and was embarrassed when he fell and had to be caught by Gibbs and Tony and helped into bed. His smile was shaky and tinged with embarrassment, but he said, "I guess we know that he's after me."

"I think you're right. You won't be here much longer so don't worry," Tony said. "Since you're all situated now, I'll resume my post. The doctor should be here in a few to check your neck." After Tony left, Tim looked at Gibbs, feeling almost betrayed.

"Where were you? How did he get in here?"

"A false alarm which we were stupid enough to believe," Gibbs said with disgust. "We got back in time to hear you shout for help. Tony chased him down, but he got away again."

Tim sat up again. "I don't want to stay here anymore, boss." He tried to get out of bed and struggled against hysterically Gibbs' hands when he held him down. "No! He can get to me here! I can't go through that again!"

"You won't have to, McGee. I promise. I won't let that happen." Finally, Tim calmed down and stopped fighting. He started crying again. This time he huddled into himself rather than turning to Gibbs for help.

"I'm so afraid. I can't be like you guys. Every time I close my eyes I feel like he's right there." Tim tried to fight the tears and force himself to calm down. Gibbs watched seemingly impassively, letting him collect himself.

When he judged that Tim was back in control of himself, he said, "McGee, everyone is afraid."

"Not like me. You and Tony and Ziva, you all know how to deal with it. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't get away. If he had taken one of you, you would have gotten away yourself. I had to have someone save me." Tim looked away again, ashamed of himself.

"There's no guarantee of that." Before he could go on, the doctor came in again.

"Let's have a look at your neck, Agent McGee." He examined the abrasions and made an approving sound. "It looks like there's no permanent damage. You'll be sore for a few days, but other than that you're fine."

McGee looked incredulous but didn't say anything. Gibbs stood and said, "I'd like a word with you, Doctor Peterson."

"I thought you would, Agent Gibbs." He looked resigned but unapologetic. Gibbs followed him out of the room and Tony entered behind him. McGee ignored him and started looking at his tortured body. There were bandages on his wrists and ankles as well as stitches on his arm, torso and face. Tony watched as Tim's face became more horrified as he discovered each injury.

"Why didn't he just kill me?" he said quietly.

"What was that, McGee?"

Tim looked up, startled. "Oh. Nothing. Just thinking aloud."

In his mind, Tony was thinking of all the things he'd rather be doing than facing McGee's mental breakdown, boiling in oil was on the list. He stood awkwardly as Tim gazed vacantly off into the distance, trying to think of something to say. "That was impressive, using your IV needle. I'm sure he wouldn't have been expecting it."

To his surprise, McGee looked humiliated, not complimented. "I couldn't think of anything else to do. It wouldn't have helped if you and Gibbs hadn't come in. All I could do was shout for help."

"McGee, you did the right thing. He shouldn't have been able to get in here at all. Gibbs and I screwed up."

"It's okay," he said quietly. "Maybe I shouldn't have done anything."

"No, McGee. He might have killed you before we got back."

"I know." Tim kept looking away. "Maybe you could have caught him though instead of worrying about me."

Before Tony could answer, Gibbs came back in, Ducky in tow. "Good morning, McGee."

"What are you doing here, Ducky? It must be early in the morning."

"About four. I had some extra time on my hands and thought I'd come and keep you company."

"Thanks."

Behind Ducky, Tony leaned over to Gibbs and said, "Could I talk to you for a minute, boss?"

"Sure, Tony." As Ducky settled in and starting telling one of the many stories he knew, Tony and Gibbs went out into the hall.

"I'm worried about McGee, boss."

"I am, too."

"I'm not talking about Robertson either."

"Neither am I."

Tony stopped. "Really?"

"Really. Why are you worried?"

"In there, just now, he kept talking about letting Robertson kill him. It sounded like he wanted it to happen."

"That's why I asked Ducky to come by. I wanted to get his opinion on how McGee's doing."

"Oh. Good. I don't like how he's acting now. It's not McGee-like." He paused. "Are you going back in?"

"I'm going to let Ducky talk to him a little while longer."


	15. Manipulation

**Chapter 15**

"So how are you doing, Timothy?" Ducky asked after finishing yet another story.

"Okay," Tim lied, and coughed a few times. His throat ached from his near-strangulation.

"You don't sound 'okay,' if you don't mind my saying so."

Tim looked away again. "I don't mind."

"What is it?"

"I screw everything up, Ducky," Tim said hoarsely.

"How do you do that?"

"I can't do anything right. I couldn't get away. I couldn't even do what he wanted me to do. I couldn't think straight. I didn't try to delay. I tried the best I could, but it wasn't enough and he kept beating me. All I wanted was for it to stop. I couldn't even do that."

"You were being tortured, Timothy. You can't blame yourself for that."

Suddenly earnest, Tim turned back to Ducky and grabbed his arm. "You don't understand!" he said fiercely. "I _wanted_ to help him. I would have done anything he asked and I didn't care that it was wrong! I-I only wanted it t-to stop." His voice was trembling and he was more angry at himself for the stammering than ever. "I-I c-can't even talk right. I-I'm weak, Ducky. That's the worst part."

"What is?"

"Everyone's being so nice and I don't deserve it. I keep expecting someone to give me a good kick and tell me to shape up."

"They would never do that to you, McGee."

"Yes, they would."

"Have they ever?"

"No. I just feel all mixed up in my head."

"That's to be expected under the circumstances."

"No. I don't want to see Tony or Ziva. I hate them."

Ducky waited for Tim to continue.

Tim shifted uncomfortably. His voice was confused."That is, I don't hate them, but when I see them I do. I can't keep straight in my mind what _I_ think and what someone else put there."

"So do you really hate them?"

"I get mad at them all the time. They keep teasing me for my mistakes and it gets old."

"Do you hate them though?"

"No." Tim sighed and coughed again. "But I say that and then when they come in, I don't know anymore. All the things he said... they weren't new. I'd heard them all before but it was so much worse."

"Timothy, I want you to listen to me for a moment. Look at me, please."

Reluctantly, Tim looked back at Ducky. "Okay."

"This has been difficult for you, I can tell. I won't pretend to understand exactly how it felt because I've never had the experience. However, Tony and Ziva are a part of your team, just like Gibbs and Abby and myself. They tease you a lot, but no one worked harder than they did to get you back."

"But..."

"I'm not finished, Timothy. They act differently because they have a lifetime of different experiences. I know you know all this already. I want you to remember it, to internalize it and keep in mind that regardless of how they treat you on the surface, they still care. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." It was hesitant and uncertain, but the anger and frustration was fading, for now.

"Good. Now, did I ever tell you about the time I was lost in Germany?"

Sounding relieved at the change in subject, McGee smiled and said, "I don't think so."

"Good." As Ducky started telling the story, Tim laid back on his bed and drifted off to sleep. Gibbs and Tony stood in the doorway watching. Tony looked embarrassed, but no one said anything. Ducky came out a few minutes later. He looked at Gibbs, and Tony went in to stay with Tim while they talked.

"He's not doing so well, Jethro."

"I could tell."

"I'm encouraged by his awareness of the manipulation, but his confidence in his abilities is completely gone right now. I don't know why exactly, but he feels that everything he did during his capture was wrong. I'm not really a psychiatrist, Jethro. He should talk to someone who can actually help him there."

"We don't have the luxury of that right now. My focus has to be on keeping him alive. Robertson won't give up and Bourdan still won't talk. I also need to know what Robertson was asking McGee to do, but so far I haven't dared do that. As much as I hate to admit it, we need McGee to get back to work, sooner rather than later."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Neither do I, but I can't think only of McGee. I need focus on the criminals as well."

"Well, don't lose sight of the victims. I'm going to head back home now, unless you need me still."

"No, thanks Ducky."

"Don't mention it." Gibbs handed Ducky a piece of paper. It was paranoid perhaps to do it like this, but after Robertson had managed to get into the hospital without getting caught, he was taking no chances. Ducky looked down at it and then nodded.

Gibbs walked back into the room. He looked at Tony. "Everything ready?" he asked.

"It's all set, boss. Abby and Ziva are ready."

"Good." He leaned over Tim and regretted the necessity of waking him up already. "McGee," he said softly. Tim didn't move. He shook him gently and Tim surged into consciousness ready to fight off his attacker. "Whoa! It's just me, McGee."

Breathing heavily, Tim tried to relax. "Sorry, boss."

"It's okay. We're moving you out now. Ready?"

"Now? What time is it?"

"Nearly five."

"Okay."

"You're going to have to walk. We'll help, but we don't want to attract attention."

In response, Tim swung his legs over the edge of the bed but paused when he looked at his hospital gown. "Can I get some clothes first?"

"Already done, McGee. I raided your apartment yesterday." Tony held out a stack of clothes. The look on Tim's face at seeing his own things was almost embarrassing. He seemed so happy to see something so simple.

"Thanks, Tony." He pulled on his pants, but when he tried to pull his shirt over his broken arm, he fumbled with the sleeve. Wordlessly, Tony reached over and helped him get the sleeve over his stitches. There was no cast because they had used a plate and screws to set the bones, but it was very sore and didn't operate very well. Tim blushed a little at his ineptitude, but Tony still didn't say anything. When Tim started to do the buttons up himself, Tony stepped back and walked to the window.

"Our ride's here, boss."

"Okay. Sorry, McGee, we don't have time to let you finish dressing yourself. Give me your shoes."

"I can do it, boss," Tim said while handing over his shoes.

"I know you can, but we're in a hurry. You just focus on buttoning your shirt. If Tony had been smart, he'd have grabbed a pullover or something simple."

Tim was embarrassed by having his boss dressing him, but he had to admit that he'd been wondering if he'd be able to even put on his shoes himself. He tried to stand, but felt so light-headed that he fell back on the bed. Gibbs stood and pulled him up, slinging his good arm over his shoulders. "Lean on me, if you need to, McGee, but don't expect me to hold you up if you collapse. You're a bit bigger than I am."

"Right."

"Ready to walk?"

"I think so." They set off at an ungainly pace, Tony striding next to them his gaze shifting to every corner of the hallway. Tim stumbled more than once causing Gibbs to slow down.

"Stairs or elevator, boss?"

"Stairs."

McGee thought weakly of having to go down all those stairs. "Boss, I don't know if I..." he trailed off, as much from exhaustion as embarrassment.

Gibbs looked at Tim's face. It was already pale and he was sweating with the effort of walking. He was gasping a little as well. He reconsidered. "Okay, elevator."

Tony pushed the button and they waited tensely. When the doors opened, Tony cleared them first, then gestured for Gibbs and Tim to walk in. Gibbs pushed the button for the second floor, rather than the first floor. When the elevator stopped there, Tony again walked out first. He cocked his head to tell them to step out.

Gibbs said, "Alright, Tim, you're going to have to go down one flight. Think you can manage it?"

"Yes," he answered. But as they slowly descended, Tim started wheezing with the effort of remaining upright. Gibbs looked at him with concern.

"Sorry, boss. I'm just out of breath."

"It's okay, McGee. We're almost there."

"Yeah. I'll make it," he gasped.

They got out of the building without incident and saw Ziva and Abby at a van. Gibbs forced Tim to quicken his pace as they headed to the van. Ziva got in the driver's seat and Abby helped Gibbs get Tim into the back seat. He fairly collapsed on the seat, gasping for breath.

"I think I'm a little out of shape," he said, smiling weakly.

"Just relax, Tim. Everything's under control now," Abby said.

"Who's driving?"

"Ziva."

He grimaced. "Then, I don't think we're under control."

"At least you're keeping your sense of humor," Abby said as the van started moving.

Tim just sighed and fell asleep in spite of Ziva's crazy driving. Abby's smile faded. She turned to Gibbs. "I don't think he looks too good."

"We just need to get him to a safe place. There are too many ways to get into and out of that hospital. He can get all the rest he needs once we're out of here."

The drive continued in silence. Tony and Gibbs kept watch for any possible tails while Abby kept Tim from being thrown out of his seat by Ziva's wild steering. They pulled up to Tim's apartment and Abby jumped out. In minutes she had grabbed Tim's bag, laptop and some extra clothes. Then, Ziva squealed out of the parking lot and they set out toward the safe house.

"How safe will this really be, Gibbs? I mean, won't he think of coming here?" Abby asked as they pulled up to Gibbs' house.

"I feel safer here. He can't surprise me here."

"The Iranians didn't find me when I stayed here," Ziva added.

"Okay. I'll bow to your greater experience."

McGee groaned and tried to sit up. "Where are we?"

"Gibbs' house."

"Why?" he asked, groggily.

"It's the safe house, McGee."

"Sure, okay." Then, he laid back down on the seat and was asleep before Abby could say anything else.

"Do you want to wake him up, Gibbs?"

"Do _you_ want to carry him inside, Abby?"

She looked down at Tim. Even in his present state, he was taller and heavier than she could manage. She shook him, gently. "Tim, time to wake up. You need to help us get inside."

"We're at the safe house?" he asked, as if the entire previous conversation had never occurred.

"Yes, but we need to get _inside_ the house."

"Come on, McGee," Tony said from outside the van. "Cut us some slack here."

"Sorry," Tim apologized. He sat up and tottered over to the door. He tried to step down and would have collapsed if Tony hadn't been there to catch him. "Sorry," he said again. "My legs aren't working right."

"That's alright McGee. Just help me out a little. I'm not looking to carry you across the threshold."

Tim straightened and nearly walked by himself although he needed Tony's help more than he wanted to admit. The pain had increased since he'd woken up in the hospital before, but he wasn't going to admit that if he didn't have to. The steps down into the basement loomed before his eyes and he sighed softly. Tony gave him a sideways glance. Tim looked about ready to cry at the sight of those stairs.

"You can lean on me a little more on the stairs, McGee. I'll take up the slack." Tim didn't answer except to increase the weight he put on Tony's shoulders. Slowly, they made it to the bottom and Tony helped him to the bed they'd set up down there. Tim collapsed onto the mattress and was asleep in seconds. While they'd been negotiating the stairs, Gibbs and Ziva had secured the perimeter and Abby gathered up everyone's stuff, complaining a little at becoming the pack horse. Then, they all settled in for the night, Ziva claiming first shift while the others slept.


	16. Lost memories

**Chapter 16**

Tim woke up later that day. He though he was alone at first. He panicked a little as he looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. Then, his eyes fastened on Abby sleeping on an air mattress near his bed. He relaxed although it took him a few minutes to remember what had happened earlier. Then, he tried to sit up and had to bite his lip to not scream as his body protested any movement. The pain medication he'd been on had obviously worn off. His whole body felt like it was on fire. He laid back down, pressing his face into the pillow to muffle his groans. Tears sprang to his eyes as he fought back the pain.

"You awake, McGee?"

Gulping back the tears, Tim dropped the pillow and tried to nod without letting Gibbs see how much pain he was in. It didn't work. Gibbs walked over to the bed and sat down.

"How bad does it hurt?"

"I'm okay," he whispered, knowing perfectly well that Gibbs could see that he wasn't.

Gibbs just raised his eyebrows and wordlessly held out a bottle of pills and a glass of water.

Tim looked at them and saw that they were prescription pain pills. Even the act of reaching out for them seemed too much. Finally, he gritted his teeth and sat up, taking the pills from Gibbs. Then, he had to hand them back.

"What?"

"I can't open the bottle, boss. I can't use my arm." He tried to say it as nonchalantly as possible.

"Okay." Gibbs opened the bottle and shook out a couple of pills.

Wincing, Tim took them and the glass. He told himself that this would help and that it did him no good to act so weak. Still, he nearly the dropped the glass.

"Thanks, boss."

"Don't mention it." He walked back toward the stairs. Then, he turned. "Oh, and McGee?"

"Yes, boss?"

"If you're in pain, you don't need to hide it."

"Okay."

The next few days passed without incident. Tim started feeling better and he could walk around on his own without feeling as though he'd pass out. However, he continued to put off taking the pills as long as possible, trying to make himself stronger. Then, one morning, Abby woke up to find him working feverishly at his computer.

"McGee, what are you doing?"

"I can't remember it, Abby. It's right there and I can't remember." He was almost in tears.

"Remember what?"

"I broke the cipher on the Dobson files. I did it for him, and I can't remember what I did. I can't remember. Why can't I remember?"

"It'll come back, McGee. Just give it time."

"No. There's no time. I have to figure this out."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I-I just have to."

Abby crouched next to him. She touched his shoulder gently. He flinched away.

"Tim, what's wrong?"

"I can't do it. I know what I have to do, and I can't do it. I keep seeing the screen. He's always right behind me. He knows what it is, and I can't remember! He's always there, waiting. I can't get it wrong." Tim's voice took on a hysterical edge and got louder as he kept typing. "He told me I had to and I did. Now that I need to do it again to help, to do my _job_, I'm failing again. It's like a song that keeps repeating in my head, but I don't know all the words. I have to do it. I have to figure it out, Abby!"

Abby took the laptop from him and closed it. Tim offered a weak resistance, but nothing more. Then, Abby held out her arms. Tim looked at her for a second then crushed her to him. He began weeping hysterically. "I can't remember, Abby," he said over and over. She just held him and let him sob. She looked up and saw Gibbs, Tony and Ziva watching from the top of the stairs. They all looked solemn, not even Tony thought there was anything humorous in McGee's breakdown. Abby just shook her head and they all left so Tim wouldn't know they had seen what happened.

Still crying, Tim pulled away. "Sorry, Abbs," he said with embarrassment. "I c-can't seem to–" he trailed off.

"Tim, it's okay."

"I'm not usually so much of a wimp." He smiled tremulously.

"You're not a wimp. I think you bruised my ribs hugging me." She smiled and his smile got a little wider.

"How long am I going to be here?"

"I don't know. Gibbs didn't say."

"I can't stay here forever."

"I know. We've been switching off going to work, trying to find Robertson. He seemed such a minor player until now. I don't know what caused the switch. I mean, he probably killed three different people before he took you."

Surprised, Tim asked, "What do you mean? Who did he kill?"

"Dobson for one. And then, you remember that murder-suicide you were working on about a month ago?"

"Yeah."

"It probably was a double murder... by Robertson. Ducky thinks he tortured them first for the same information he was trying to get from you."

"Why?"

"I don't know, yet. He picked you out awhile ago though. He even hired someone to find things about you."

"It doesn't make sense."

"Well, you told us that there was more to the Dobson files than we thought."

"I did?"

"Yes, don't you remember?"

"Everything is a blur. I know things happened," he paused and shuddered, "but I can't seem to separate what he did from what I did. Tell me about Robertson."

"He has an FBI file. It was opened because they suspected he might have ties to an arms smuggling ring, but about three years ago he dropped off the radar. The FBI doesn't have any more information about him since then, but he was never suspected as a murderer."

Tim's face went blank. "He enjoyed it."

"Enjoyed what?"

"What he did to me. He liked doing it. That's one of the reasons he wanted you to see it."

"Tim..."

He shook his head, as if to clear it. "No, I'm okay. Forget it."

Abby continued to watch him, but for the rest of the day, he appeared to have pushed the incident out of his mind. Then, the next morning, Gibbs woke up and found that he was gone. There was only a note left behind. It said that he needed to remember.

"Tony!"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Where's McGee?"

"He's not down there?"

"No, DiNozzo. Why do you think I'm asking?"

"What's going on, Gibbs?" Ziva asked.

"McGee's gone."

"Where's Abby?"

Gibbs looked around. "Abby!"

No response.

"Where would he go?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs thought a moment. Then, he said, "The note he left said he needed to remember. He must have gone somewhere specific. I can think of three choices: his apartment, NCIS or back to the warehouse."

"You think Abby is with him?"

"Either with him or following him. Let's go."

"Right."

----------------------------------------

"You sure this is the right place?" the cab driver had asked a few hours earlier.

"I'm sure," Tim had answered. Then, he had walked aimlessly, trying to find the _last_ warehouse where Tony had said they found him. When he saw it, he walked to it, but had then stared at the doorway, not wanting to go into that room again. Finally, he ducked under the police tape, marking the crime scene, and went inside. It didn't look frightening, even by the limited beam of the flashlight, but the memory of his time here made Tim's steps falter. There was the hook and the tub and the chair. They were still there. Something about this place and his experience had made him realize what the encryption was hiding. He had _known_, but now he'd forgotten. The only thing he had to offer NCIS was his technological abilities, and he was letting everyone down by failing time after time. He _had_ to remember.

He put the computer down on the table and stared at it. "What am I missing?" he said aloud. Tim paced back and forth, occasionally stopping at the computer to stare at the files again.

"What am I doing wrong?" he shouted. In a fit of rage, he grabbed the chair, ignoring the protest of his injured muscles, and threw it as hard as he could across the room. It didn't go very far, but it made him feel better.

Time passed unnoticed. Tim stared at the files, those incomprehensible files, and felt completely useless. Robertson had been right. He was a failure. He couldn't do anything right. He couldn't even help solve the case. What was the point of trying to pretend otherwise? He seemed to have lost every skill he'd had, leaving only a shell behind. He walked as far away from the computer as he could and collapsed to his knees as the weight of his failure came crushing down on him.

---------------------------------------------------

"I'm sorry, Gibbs. I woke up and saw that he was gone. I thought for sure he'd come to the lab so that he could work on the case," Abby said on the phone.

"Why didn't you wake anyone up and how did you sneak by Ziva?"

"I just walked out; I didn't sneak. I figured if I could find him and find out what he was doing then no one would have to know. He feels like a failure, Gibbs."

Gibbs sighed. "Well, we're at his apartment and he's not here either. That leaves the warehouse. We'll head over there now."

"I'll meet you there."

"No. Go back to my place and wait in case he comes back."

"Okay," Abby agreed, but she sounded a little disgruntled.

"I mean it, Abby."

"Okay, Gibbs."

When they pulled up to the warehouse, they saw a flashlight on the ground. The interior was bathed in the dim glow of the computer screen. Cautiously, the three pulled out their weapons and went in. The computer was sitting on a table, but McGee wasn't there. Gibbs silently directed Tony and Ziva to fan out and check the entire warehouse, both for McGee and for anyone else who might be there.

"All clear, boss."

"You see McGee yet?"

Ziva called out from one corner, "I found him!"

Gibbs and Tony ran over and saw Tim sitting against a wall, his knees drawn up to his chest, his eyes vacant and staring. Tony knelt down in front of him and waved his hand in front of Tim's face. There was no reaction.

"McGee?" Tony shook him. "You in there, McGee?"

No response.

Gibbs knelt down as well. He leaned over and looked into Tim's eyes. "It's okay, McGee," he said.

Finally, to Tony's relief, Tim blinked and focused on Gibbs' face. He made a vague gesture. "I-it's right there, boss. Can't you see it? I-it's right there. It's so close I can feel it, but I just can't reach it. I thought I could find it here, but it's gone. It's all gone."

"What's gone, McGee?"

"The answers," he said. Then, without warning, he pushed himself up, causing Gibbs and Tony to fall back a little, and started pacing frantically back and forth. "Did you know that I could do it for him? For Robertson? I was sitting in front of his computer, he was standing right behind me. He was right there, ready to kill me or torture me. I felt dead already, but I stared at the screen and I saw what I'd been missing. Everything was clear. I knew what it was. I was tied to this stupid chair," Tim stopped and kicked it as hard as he could. "But I could still see it. Now, I'm free. I'm-I'm free, and I can't do anything right anymore. Why?"

"McGee!" Tim ignored Gibbs and kept walking back and forth. Gibbs grabbed him. Tim struggled for a minute then stopped, but he kept looking away. "Look at me, McGee!"

Tim couldn't fight the habit of obeying Gibbs. He looked into Gibbs' eyes, his own eyes welling with unwanted tears. "Why, boss?" he whispered.

"I don't know, McGee. But you don't have to remember it all now. Give yourself some time. But if you don't stop this running around, _I'll_ be forced to lock you in my basement. The files can wait."

Tim began to calm down, but as soon as Gibbs slackened his grip, he pulled away. "No, they can't wait. Robertson is still out there. He's getting away with it, boss. I can't let him do that. I can't. Abby said he killed three people. If we don't stop him, who will be next? We don't even know _why_ he's killing them, but we know it has something to do with Dobson and his files. That's the lead. Th-that's wh-what I have to solve."

Gibbs grabbed him again. "McGee, stop!" Tim struggled to keep moving. "Just stop! You and I both know that Robertson and Dobson aren't the reason you're here. You're here for yourself. You're trying to find what you think you've lost. You know you've changed and you think you can't be what you were before. And it's true. You can't be the same. You can never be the same; it's impossible after what happened to you." Tim tried to get away again at the mention of his kidnaping. Gibbs held his shoulders tightly. "You're trying to keep yourself from thinking about it by letting the case fill your every thought. You're letting the need to solve one problem consume you so you don't have to acknowledge it. But you can't run away from what happened, Tim. You can't pretend it didn't happen and you can't ignore it." When Tim tried to fight him again, Gibbs shook him gently and made eye contact. "You were tortured, Tim." Tim looked away. "Look at me!" Tim looked up, the tears now running down his cheeks. "You were kidnaped and tortured, forced betray yourself and your country. You feel like a failure for giving in, like you should have been stronger, more ready for what happened. You are _not_ a failure, Tim. You are an NCIS agent who was chosen for a job and has done his best in every aspect of that job. I understand that you don't want to believe that there was nothing you could have done differently, but it's true. Neither I nor Tony nor Ziva could have anticipated what Robertson was willing to do to break you. It's no slight against you that he succeeded. That's what torture does. Do you hear me, McGee?" When Tim didn't respond, he shook him a little and repeated, "Do you hear me, McGee?"

"Yes, boss," Tim whispered, all fight gone. He sagged a little in Gibbs' grip but didn't fall. "I'm so tired."

"Okay, McGee. Come on." Gibbs slung his arm over his shoulders and guided McGee out of the warehouse. Tony stopped to pick up the laptop while Ziva watched to make sure no one had tracked them there.

They headed back to Gibbs' house, taking care that no one was following them. The ride back had been silent. Tim had just stared out the window and no one else could think of anything to say. When they arrived, Abby was waiting on the porch. She jumped up as the van stopped. When Tim got out, she ran up and hugged him.

"Tim, don't you ever go out somewhere without telling me. I was worried sick!"

"Sorry, Abbs," Tim said quietly. He walked into the house and down to the basement. By the time they all got there, he was apparently asleep on the bed.

Gibbs turned to Tony and Ziva and said, "If either of you tries to give him any grief over this, you're gone."

"I wouldn't dream of it, boss."

"Ziva?"

"Never."

"Good. Abby, when he wakes up, if he wants to work on those files again, let him but keep it limited. Let's see if we can ease him back into it because he's right. We need to know what Dobson was hiding, and McGee knows but can't let it out right now."

"Gibbs, McGee needs more than time. Torture can't be overcome with just time. He needs help, probably more help than any of us can give him."

"Maybe you're right, Ziva, but we can't do that right now. If he hasn't compromised the location already, we take a chance by letting others know. McGee is not only a part of the team, he's the only witness who is still alive and talking."

They all looked at Tim's prone form, then scattered to their respective positions.


	17. Realizations and ambushes

**Chapter 17**

That night, Tim started having nightmares. It was always black with an air of menace, the feeling of someone standing near him ready to strike at any moment. He would wake up terrified and there was always someone there, usually Gibbs or Abby. Once, he thought he saw Ducky, but didn't stay awake long enough to pay attention.

Ducky looked up from Tim to Gibbs. "He's not getting better, Jethro."

"I know, Duck. But I have to keep him alive."

"He won't be any good to you or himself if his mind breaks first."

"He's stronger than that."

"Are you sure of that? Stronger men than Timothy have been destroyed by torture."

"I'm sure, Ducky. He's stronger than even he knows. He just needs to realize it."

"How?"

"I don't know. I'm working on it."

"Boss, I hate to see him like this," Tony said quietly. "McGee shouldn't be so afraid."

"We have to accept that McGee's changed."

"He's changed, Ziva. He hasn't become a different person."

"Sometimes people do, Gibbs. Torture is not something everyone can handle."

"Not McGee. He'll fight back and win. We just need to give him time."

"We're giving him time, but we can't hide forever. Sometime Robertson will figure it out, boss."

"We don't need forever. McGee will do it. Just leave him alone and let him figure himself out. We can give him help, but he has to do this himself."

Tim opened his eyes after they left. Gibbs had more faith in him than he thought he deserved. He would earn that faith. He stayed still waiting for everyone to settle in for the night. Then, he sat up and turned on his computer. The dreaded files loomed up in front of him again. This time, he didn't try to start from the same point he remembered. He started at the beginning, questioning his own initial assumptions. There was something he'd discovered during his kidnaping that had helped him figure it out. It was something simple, he knew that. Sleep was forgotten; he kept waking up anyway. He might as well get something accomplished.

"McGee? What are you doing up so late?" Abby asked sleepily.

"I couldn't sleep. Just go back to sleep, Abbs. I'm not going to run away again. It didn't help anyway."

"What are you doing?"

"Starting over... well, almost over. It's something so simple I'm overlooking it."

"If it was simple, someone would have seen it already."

"I know, but I also know that I figured it out once. That should give me the edge, right?" he smiled, a shadow of the old McGee.

"As if you need an edge, McGee."

"Maybe not...before. Now..." he trailed off. Abby hugged him.

"Never, Tim."

Tim didn't respond; he just turned back to the screen.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Where are you starting?"

Tim looked at her. Abby was always there. "Well, I wanted to start here." He pointed to an area of code on the screen. Together, they started going through the files, looking for a hint of the solution. Hours passed and Gibbs woke to find Tim and Abby working away as if nothing had happened. He left them to it and started up the stairs. Then, he heard an exclamation.

"I've got it! See, Abby? I told you it was something simple!" Gibbs ran back down and saw Tim standing, pointing excitedly at the screen, looking for all the world like his old self.

"Simple? You're a genius, McGee! That was pure brilliance."

"What's going on?" Gibbs asked. Abby looked sideways at Tim. "Don't give me the details, just a quick recap."

"McGee cracked Dobson's files!"

"Abby did a lot of it, boss."

Abby slugged him, making him wince. "Sorry, McGee. Look, Gibbs! Dobson _was_ part of Robertson's arms smuggling."

McGee had already resumed typing. "Dobson was Robertson's contact in the armory and Dobson got the weapons. It looks like Dobson had been hiding some of the profits and arms in hopes of setting up his own ring."

"Good job. Now, we'll–"

McGee caught a glint of something in the window. He didn't think; he just pushed Abby down and shouted, "Get down!" A split second later, the window shattered. Gibbs was on the floor, shouting for Tony and Ziva to go after the guy.

They heard Tony shout, "NCIS, freeze!" Then, more gunfire. Then, silence.

"Did you get him?" Tony asked.

"I think I nicked him, but he got away."

Tim looked at Abby. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Tim was shaking.

"I'm sure, McGee. The worst injury is a bruise from hitting the floor."

"I'm sorry, Abby. I'm sorry." He was holding her tightly.

"It's okay, McGee. Don't worry." She looked up at Gibbs who had stood up and was hovering with his gun drawn.

"Stay down, you two. Let us clear the place first."

McGee let go of Abby and started to stand. "I'll help--"

Gibbs immediately pushed him back down. "McGee, you're the one he's after. Stay down!"

Tim huddled and Abby scooted over next to him. "Relax, McGee." They stayed on the floor until Gibbs, Tony and Ziva came back to the basement.

"It's all clear. He's gone," Ziva said.

"Well, he found us."

"Is it my fault, boss?" Tim asked.

"I don't know, McGee. It's possible that he followed us back."

"Where to now?"

"NCIS."


	18. Interrogation

**Chapter 18**

When they got to NCIS headquarters, Tim went to Abby's lab and threw himself into analyzing Dobson's files. He ignored any suggestion that he slow down or take a break. At first, Abby tried to get him to stop, but then as she realized the futility of such an attempt, she shrugged and started to help him out. But when evening came and Tim showed no sign of stopping, she decided to put her foot down.

"Tim, you've spent nearly 24 hours working on this. It's time for a break."

He didn't respond.

"Tim!" When he didn't answer, Abby physically pulled his hands away from the computer and turned him around to face her. "Yo! Tim, you need to stop now."

"I don't want to stop, Abby."

"You need some sleep."

"No. I don't want to sleep." He was exhausted she could see, but there was an edge of fear behind his words.

"Why not?"

"I-I, I just don't want to."

"Come on, McGee. You can tell me."

Tim turned away. "I'm afraid to close my eyes. I'm afraid that when I open them again, it will be dark and I'll be back in that warehouse."

"Tim..."

"I'm so tired, Abby. I'm tired of being afraid and I'm tired of having to hide. But most of all, I'm just tired."

Abby hugged him. "Tim, you won't be back there. You're safe with me." His arms tightened around her.

"I can't bear the thought of even seeing him, let alone if he found me again."

"He won't find you. I've got you, Tim." Still keeping a hold of him, Abby led him to the futon in her office. She sat down next to him and leaned his head on her shoulder. "Sit here and relax." Tim's breathing slowed as he calmed down and edged toward sleep. He slumped against Abby and she gently laid him down. She stood for a minute. He stirred and she sat down again. "I'm here, Tim," she whispered into his ear and he stopped moving.

"He's asleep?" Tony asked from the doorway.

"For the moment. I don't know how long it will last though." She stood carefully and left Tim laying on the bed.

"Have you guys found anything indicating a location yet?"

"Not yet. If we ever find Robertson, the trial will be a cinch though. Dobson detailed every aspect of Robertson's operation and also listed contacts he was going to try to get to. It's no wonder he wanted the files."

"We haven't had any luck either. Robertson may as well be a ghost for all the traces he's left. We don't even know if that's his real name. Gibbs isn't happy about it."

"I'm sure he's not."

"Who's not what?" Gibbs asked.

"You're not happy about not knowing where Robertson is, boss."

"You're right. But I'm more unhappy about the fact that Leonard Bourdan has escaped from custody."

"What? When did that happen?"

"He was being transferred to federal custody and _someone_ engineered an escape."

"Great."

"Well, two people are harder to hide than one."

"But if they get out of the country, we're back at square one."

"So was it Robertson at your place this morning or Bourdan, boss?"

"I didn't see him. What do you think, Ziva?"

"It could have been either one. They have similar builds, but Robertson has been a lot more careful than that up to now."

"Well, you and Tony go and check out his place again. I'm sure neither one will be there, but maybe they stopped by. Then, see what you can find about them."

"On it, boss."

Left alone, Abby and Gibbs looked over at Tim, still sleeping.

"How's he doing, Abby?"

"He keeps saying he's tired, but he's afraid to sleep. He doesn't want to talk about it and he doesn't want to think about it. I couldn't stop him from working until just before Tony came in. But he's thinking more clearly about computer stuff."

They were interrupted by Tim sitting up and shouting, "He's here!"

Abby hurried over. "No, Tim. He's not here. It's just me and Gibbs."

"McGee," Gibbs said sternly.

"Yes, boss?" Tim responded, guiltily as if Gibbs had caught him slacking off.

"Come with me."

"Okay." He looked, terrified, at Abby. She just smiled and shooed him off. As he followed after Gibbs, Abby turned back to the computer and started looking for more information on Robertson.

"Sit down, McGee." Gibbs had taken him to an interrogation room and now pointed at a chair.

"Okay." McGee sat down. He had the hunched, guilty look every suspect had when he sat in front of Gibbs. Gibbs, for his part, stared at Tim trying to read him as he did suspects. The fear was still there as well as the discomfort Tim always displayed in Gibbs' presence.

After a few minutes of silence, during which Tim never looked up or shifted position, Gibbs said, "Tell me, McGee."

"Tell you what, boss?"

"Tell me what happened."

"You saw what happened. Abby told me that there was a streaming video."

"I only saw it. Tell me what happened. I want to hear it from you."

Tim didn't speak.

"That wasn't a request, McGee!"

A hint of rebellion flared in Tim's eyes as he looked up at Gibbs. "Where would you like me to start, boss?"

"From the beginning. I want to know it all. How did he get you?"

The rebellion died and Tim dropped his head. "He got me at my apartment. He left the door ajar so I'd think there was someone inside. I drew my gun and went in looking for any sign of an intruder."

"Why didn't you call anyone?"

"I wanted to handle it myself. It could have just been that I left my door open when I left that morning. I didn't want to have you guys show up and have it be nothing. It had been a bad enough day as it was and besides, it was nearly midnight."

"You didn't leave until midnight?"

"I hadn't made any progress. I kept thinking that if I just tried once more, I'd get the breakthrough." He shrugged and winced. "It didn't work."

"So, you went in?"

"Yeah. I looked around, but then I sensed someone behind me. I started to turn, but he hit me in the head."

"So he wasn't even in your apartment?"

"No. I guess not. Did anything get taken?"

"Not that we could tell, but it's your stuff. Go on."

"I woke up in the warehouse, I guess. I was blindfolded until he had me working on the computer, but the room felt different."

"What do you mean?"

"When I woke up, I could tell I wasn't in my apartment, that I was in a bigger, more empty room. I could also feel him there near me. He didn't move for awhile. He always kept me tied up." So far, Tim was speaking in such a way that he dislocated himself from the events he was recounting, as if it was someone else's experience. It kept him from facing it. That wasn't what Gibbs wanted. Tim had to face it head on and realize that he was still okay even with what happened.

"How did you feel, Tim?"

Startled by the interruption, Tim asked, "What?"

"How did you feel?"

"I-I don't know." That stammer was back again.

"Yes, you do."

Unable to stay still, Tim stood up and walked away from Gibbs. "I-I felt... confused at first."

"Why?"

"I wasn't very coherent, and I couldn't think why I was there. Why would someone kidnap me? What good would that do?"

"And then?"

"Then, as he kept... standing there. He was so c-close to me. I was a-afraid, but the first time he hit me, it was a complete surprise. I-I didn't really think it was real until then."

"Sit down, McGee."

"What? Oh." Tim came back to the table and sat down. "That first time was the worst. I-I didn't know I could hurt that much and not die. After awhile I kind of tried to separate myself from what was happening."

"How?"

"I tried to shut myself down. I felt it, but I tried to pretend it was happening to someone else."

"Did it work?"

"No. Not until he had me at the computer. I was so sure I was going to die that I didn't care what he did. I just hoped he'd kill me quickly." Tim looked away.

"Did you want to die?"

Tim didn't answer right away. He stood up again and walked to the mirror, wondering briefly who was on the other side of it today. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw the stranger that was always in his reflection.

"I don't see myself in the mirror anymore, boss."

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes, I recognize myself, but sometimes I think I did die in the warehouse and a stranger is all that's left."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes," Tim answered, but hurriedly amended his answer. "That is, I wanted to die when I was there."

"Why?"

"I knew what he wanted me to do was wrong and I knew that I shouldn't do it."

"But?"

"But all I could think about when I was there was that if I did what he said, he would kill me or at least stop beating me."

"Did it work?"

"No." Tim was shaking a little, but his eyes were empty. "It never stopped. He didn't let me sleep. He didn't let me eat. Usually he didn't touch me when I was working for him. He would leave me alone, but even when he didn't hit me, the pain was still there. If I could just have done exactly what he wanted, I would have been fine. But I n-never could. I never could. And I-I wanted to. But I couldn't do it."

Gibbs was silent, absorbing Tim's words. He was surprised when he turned around again.

"Boss?"

"What, McGee?"

"Who do you see? I-I mean when you look in the mirror. D-do you see yourself or a stranger?"

Gibbs stared at Tim without answering. With all the upheaval he'd had in his own life, he sometimes wondered that he _didn't _see himself as a stranger. He wasn't angry, but he knew why Tim was asking the question and he didn't know how to explain what he saw.

Immediately, Tim backed off again. "I-I'm sorry, boss. It's none of my business."

Gibbs sat for a moment longer then stood and walked over to stand by Tim. He looked at himself in the mirror and then turned to him and said, "I see myself, McGee. I've changed over the last few months, but it's still me in the mirror. What do you see right now?"

"I don't want it to be me."

"Why?"

Tim turned away from the mirror. "I don't like who I see."

Gibbs looked at him shrewdly. "McGee, have you ever liked who you see in the mirror?"

He didn't answer.

"Well?"

Suddenly, Tim was angry. He backed away from the mirror, his voice shaking with uncontrolled rage. "Why are you asking me these things? Is someone on the other side of the mirror just waiting for me to break down again? Are they waiting to have something else to use against me? Is this just another game? Why are you doing this to me? Why can't you just leave me alone? Just let me go!"

Gibbs could see the fear hiding behind Tim's anger. "Who do you think you're talking to, Tim? Me or Robertson?"

Tim stopped, then backed away from Gibbs, horrified at his lapse. He nearly collapsed into the chair and dropped his head to the table.

"Who, Tim? Who were you yelling at just now?" Gibbs asked softly.

Tim whispered, "It wasn't you."

"How often do you forget where you are?"

Tim didn't answer.

Gibbs sat down across from him again. "Does it happen a lot?"

"Sometimes."

"Tell me."

In a halting voice, his head still cradled in his arms, Tim said, "Usually, it's when I'm waking up or when I'm falling asleep. If I've been alone for a long time, when someone comes, I think it's him. I dream about it, but I don't know that I'm dreaming. If I close my eyes, I'm afraid to open them because I'm afraid that if I do, it will still be dark, that I'll be back. Every person I see, I think it's him. Now, twice he's come after me again. This last time, someone could have been hurt. I feel like I'm a liability. What if Abby or you or Tony or Ziva were to get hurt because he was coming after me? I'm afraid, boss."

"Tim, look at me." Tim lifted his head and reluctantly looked at Gibbs. "Why didn't you say something before?"

"I didn't want to be weak."

Gibbs sighed with frustration. "You're not weak, Tim. You're not a liability. I wouldn't keep you on my team if I didn't think you were an asset. Remember that."

"I wanted to die."

"What?"

"You asked me before if I wanted to die when I was being tortured. I did. I wanted to die. I didn't even want to be rescued. I just wanted to die."

"Why?"

"It was too much. Too much pain, too much darkness, too much fear, too much of everything. I wanted it all to stop. Even if you found me, you couldn't stop the pain. It would have kept going, and I didn't want it anymore."

Gibbs nodded silently. "I understand, Tim. And I wish I could give you the time you need to get over all this, but I can't. There's too much at stake here. Do you understand?"

"Yes, boss."

"Good." Without another word, Gibbs stood and left the room. After a minute or two, Tim got up and went back to the lab. Abby smiled at him, but he didn't respond. He went to Abby's office and laid down on the bed. In seconds, he was asleep. Abby stared at his sleeping form with a look of concern. Gibbs came up behind her.

"He's asleep?"

"Yes. It was weird. He just came in and fell asleep."

"He's just tired, Abbs. Hopefully, he'll stay asleep this time."

"I hope you're right, Gibbs."

So softly that he seemed to be talking to himself Gibbs said, "Me, too."


	19. Panic

**Chapter 19**

"Gibbs! He's going to leave!"

It was two days later and Tim ran to Gibbs' desk without even pausing to apologize. He was frantic and terrified, and definitely not in control. The other agents on the floor looked worriedly at him.

"Quiet down, McGee," Tony said in a low voice.

Tim ignored him. "He's planning on leaving the country. We have to stop him, boss."

"Slow down, McGee. What are you talking about?"

"Robertson!" Tim shouted angrily. Nearly everyone in the room was looking at Tim. He was gesticulating wildly, pacing back and forth in front of Gibbs' desk.

"Sit down, McGee!"

It was only force of habit that Tim even heard Gibbs' order. He sat down but continued to fidget.

"What's going on?"

Tim stood up again and went to his desk. He typed quickly and put it up on the screen. "Abby and I were analyzing Dobson's files and we saw this." He put a file on the screen. Everyone stared at it blankly. "See?"

"Uh, no, McGee. It's just a bunch of gibberish. Are you okay?"

Tim pushed away Tony's hand. "Sorry, I forgot to run the decryption up here." He sat down and pushed a few more buttons and the screen shifted to real words. Tony tried not to sigh with relief. He had been getting worried that Tim had lost his mind.

"See it now? Dobson was trying to set up an arms deal with some group in Egypt, the Mu'iideen. He had swiped Robertson's contacts and had managed to get a meeting with them. It was set up for this weekend here with a possible followup in Cairo." Tim was speaking too quickly and no one responded. "Don't you get it? Robertson is going to show up at that meeting. He's going to try to either get the deal himself or take down the group for daring to deal with one of his competitors! If the first meeting goes well, he'll go to Cairo and then we've lost him!"

Gibbs considered what Tim had said as well as his obviously aberrant mental state. "Are you sure about this, McGee? What makes you think he'll attend the meeting?"

"He wanted to know what Dobson was doing. He tortured Lieutenant Dobson as well as Acton. He must have suspected that they were trying to cut him out of the deal. Neither one of them must have given any details, and maybe he didn't have time to persuade them so he killed them instead. He must have known that Dobson had the information in his files which is why he needed to decode them. Now, he knows exactly what Dobson was doing and with whom." Tim paused and looked down, embarrassed. "He'll show up at the meeting. If we don't take him then, we'll lose the chance. He'll be gone!" Gibbs looked at him. He held his gaze. "I'm right, boss. I know it."

"Okay, McGee. Where and when?"

"When is on Saturday at noon. The where, we're still working on. It's not encrypted. He used an actual code within the file."

"Okay, then, you and Abby get on it; we'll start setting up the details."

"Okay, boss." Tim walked out slightly calmer than he had been when he entered the room.

"Boss? Are you sure about this?" Tony asked. "He seemed pretty wired."

Gibbs didn't answer for a long minute. Then, he shook his head. "I'll check with Abby about what's been going on down there. However, in the meantime, you and Ziva see if anything we know about these people indicates a location and set up stakeout if possible."

"On it, boss," Tony said, but as soon as Gibbs left, he looked at Ziva.

"He's losing it, Tony."

Tony looked back at his computer. "It's possible, but McGee still knows his stuff."

"How much of that is in his mind?"

"You saw the file. He didn't invent it. Now, do you know anything about this Mu'iideen?"

"They're pretty smalltime so far. They split from the Egyptian al-Jihad a few years ago, one of the student groups initially. They could be trying to make headlines now, especially with the escalation of violence in the Middle East."

"Any Mossad info on the leader?"

"Some," she admitted.

"Well?"

"I'm not sure I'm authorized to reveal that information to you, Tony."

"Come on, Ziva. This could be important."

"He won't be at this meeting. They'll be... feeling each other up."

Tony smirked. "Out, Ziva. They'll be feeling each other out."

Ziva grimaced at the mistake. She'd been so sure that she was correct that time. "Right. If McGee is right, this is preliminary to actually doing business. The first meeting will be attended by someone else, perhaps his second in command, maybe a little lower. He'll decide whether it is a good offer."

"Can you compile a list of possible attendees?"

"Yes. It will be a short list."

"It's probably better that way. Then, we have fewer to track down."

"They're probably already here."

"All the more reason to find them now, isn't it?" Tony looked at her significantly.

She nodded and got to work.


	20. Worn down and out

**Chapter 20**

Gibbs went down and found McGee back at the computer. Abby was watching him more than the screen. She glanced back and noticed Gibbs. She sent him a worried look. He nodded.

"McGee, why don't you get some rest while Abby takes a shot?"

Tim didn't even stop typing. "I'm fine, boss."

"No, you're not, McGee. How long has it been since you took a break?"

Before he could answer, Abby jumped in. "Yesterday."

"Abby–" he began.

"No, McGee. You won't do us any good if you kill yourself trying to help. Go and get some rest."

"But, boss!"

"That wasn't a suggestion, McGee. You're done for now. In fact, Ducky told me he wanted a look at you, to make sure everything is healing."

"I feel fine."

"Go."

"Okay, boss." He stood and headed to the morgue.

"Abby, get Ducky on this thing, quick."

Wordlessly, she reached out and turned on the camera.

"What can I do for you, Abby?"

"Ducky, I just sent McGee down to you. I told him you wanted to look at his injuries. Please give him a checkup and find out what else is wrong," Gibbs said.

"Thanks for the advance warning, Jethro," Ducky said a little sarcastically, "Couldn't you have told me this a little earlier?"

"No. I just thought of it."

"Fine." Ducky looked off the screen. "Ah, McGee, I was just going to make the trip up to the lab. You save me the effort." He glanced back at the screen for a split second then turned it off.

"What's been going on in here, Abby?"

"I couldn't get him to stop, Gibbs. He'd go and lay down, but within a half an hour he'd be back up again. He's barely sleeping at all. He still doesn't want to although he won't admit that he's still scared. He's kind of scaring _me_."

---------------------------------------------------------

As soon as Tim came into the morgue, Ducky had the same thought as Abby. Tim _was_ a little scary. He was full of manic energy, fidgeting constantly. He was pale and his eyes continually darted around. He'd obviously been trying to channel his energy into something constructive, but he seemed to have no control over himself.

"Timothy, why don't you take a seat on the exam table. I'll be right over."

"I feel a little weird being examined in a morgue."

"I know what I'm doing, McGee."

"I don't doubt that, Ducky."

"Then, the location shouldn't make much difference."

Ducky examined Tim's injuries in uncharacteristic silence. It made Tim uncomfortable.

"Well, Ducky? I'm fine, right?" He was already halfway off the table.

"Wait a moment, McGee. You're still not looking very good. You're too pale for one thing. Sit still for a few minutes, take a breath. You're pushing yourself too hard."

"There's so much to do, Ducky. I can't sit around and let others do my work."

"It's everyone's work, not just yours. We're a team here. Or have you forgotten that?"

Tim slid off the table and paused, feeling slightly dizzy. "I haven't forgotten, but I have to do my part, too. I can't slack off just because of what happened."

"It's not slacking off. It's giving yourself a chance to heal."

"Tony was back pretty quickly after having the plague and then when he and Ziva went undercover."

"And he was not much help either." Ducky could see that Tim wasn't really listening to him. "Just take it easy, Timothy."

"I will, Ducky. When this is over." He walked out.

"But when will it be over?" Ducky asked himself.

Tim stopped as soon as he got out of the morgue. He had been feeling dizzy more and more often over the last few hours. He really needed to sleep, but what was the point? He never got any rest anyway. His sleep was filled with nightmares. He hadn't been very hungry of late either. Abby had sent him to eat a few times. Usually, he just got a drink of water because just the thought of eating made him feel a little sick. The spell passed and he straightened. He stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for Abby's lab. As the doors started to open, Tim took a step and felt a sudden weakness come over him. He tried to push it away, but black spots floated in his vision. He took another step and his legs buckled underneath him. Finally, everything went black and he fell to the floor, unconscious.

----------------------------------------------------------

"I mean it, Jethro. Tell McGee that he has to stop. I'm worried that he'll hurt himself. There's no reason for him to work himself like this."

"I'll tell him, Ducky, but I don't know if he'll listen to me either."

"Make it an order then. He's so afraid that Robertson will get away or that he's not doing his job that he's ignoring how worn out he is."

"Okay. Where is he? He's not still in the morgue is he?"

"No. He left a good ten minutes ago."

"Great. He would have only come back up here."

"Gibbs!"

"What is it, Abby?"

"It's Tim!"

Gibbs followed her voice and found her kneeling on the floor by the elevators... holding Tim's head in her lap. He turned back to the camera. "Ducky, get up here! Quick!"

When Ducky arrived he took one look at Tim and ordered Gibbs and Abby to carry him into the lab and lay him on the cot. "He must have been worse than I thought. I knew he was worn out, but not to this extent. I was worrying more about his mental state."

Abby asked, "What's wrong with him, Ducky?"

"He's probably weak from a lack of sleep, judging by what you've told me. How much has he eaten?"

"I sent him for meal breaks three times every day."

"Did you ever go with him?"

"No. He was so insistent that someone be working on it all the time. I said that if he'd go and eat I'd keep working until he got back. I thought he'd do it, Ducky. I really did. Otherwise, I'd have gone with him."

"It's not your fault, Abby. I should have noticed. By rights we should send him back to the hospital, but I know that's not an option. He needs an IV at the very least."

"Done," Gibbs said and left. He was back with an IV in twenty minutes. Ducky didn't even bother to ask where he had found it. Sometimes Gibbs acted like a magician. Tim hadn't moved in that time.

"I'm a little rusty at sticking needles into living bodies, Jethro." He carefully inserted the needle into McGee's hand and hooked up the bag. "Now, even when he wakes up, he's not to get up. He needs at least a day of rest. If he won't sleep on his own, I'll get him some sleeping pills. Has he been taking the pain medication?"

Abby nodded. "Yes. I've seen him."

"Of course. He'd want to be able to keep working. Well, I'll stay here to watch for now. Mr. Palmer can handle the morgue without me for a few hours." Ducky sat down by the cot. Abby went back to work and Gibbs went back to check on Tony and Ziva. Ducky looked at the prone figure. "Timothy, what were you thinking?"


	21. Second awakening

**Chapter 21**

As it had before, consciousness returned slowly, as did normal thought processes. Tim opened his eyes and wondered vaguely where he was. He moved his hand and noticed that something felt wrong. He focused on it and saw a tube running from his hand to... where? Slowly, he followed the tubing to the bag. Finally, he realized that it was an IV. He looked around some more. The IV didn't fit in with the rest of the decor. It looked like he was still in Abby's lab. Memories flooded back. He started to sit up and was startled to feel hands holding him in place.

"Stay down, McGee. Otherwise, Ducky, Gibbs _and_ Abby will all have my hide. You're not worth it."

"Tony?"

"Who were you expecting, McGee? Florence Nightingale?"

Tim stopped trying to sit up and relaxed. "What are you doing here, Tony?"

"Watching you, which has been a pretty boring job up to this point. You don't move much when you're unconscious, McGee. Of course, you don't snore either which I've heard from very reputable sources is a good thing."

In spite of all that was going on, Tim blushed at Tony's remark. He knew there was really only one person who could have told him that. "What happened?"

"All I know is that you collapsed, and that I'm under strict orders to keep you in that bed until such time as Ducky decides you are well enough to attempt the difficult and dangerous maneuver of remaining upright."

"How long was I asleep?"

"Unconscious, McGee, and for the last twenty-four hours."

Unthinking, Tim tried to sit up again. "Oh, no. Robertson–"

Tony pushed him down again. "Don't worry, McGee. We're on it. Abby's working on the program. Ziva's looking at that terrorist cell and Gibbs and I are switching off trying to figure out the location of the first meeting the old-fashioned way."

"I feel fine, Tony. I should really get back to work."

"No way. I told you that I'm under orders–"

"Please, Tony. Let me up." It was embarrassing to Tim that he was so weak that he couldn't fight against Tony's hands.

Tony's face lost all traces of humor. "McGee, you are going to kill yourself if you try to keep this up. I mean it. Stay put."

Tim subsided as much because of Tony's expression as because of his words. "What do I do then?"

"Sleep, if you're smart."

"I don't know if I can."

"Here, take these."

"What are they?"

"Sleeping pills." At Tim's expression, Tony smiled again. "Don't look so horrified. You're in no danger of anything but getting the sleep you've been avoiding."

"I'm not tired," Tim lied.

"That's why you should take them. You still need the sleep even if you don't feel like it." Tony could see how tired Tim was, but he wasn't going to admit it unless Tim proved difficult.

Reluctantly, Tim held out his hand for them. He took the pills without further comment. Then, he looked at the IV again. "Why do I have this?"

"Because you don't seem able to eat in the normal way either."

"Oh."

"Any more arguments?"

"No."

"Good. Hurry up and go back to sleep. I was just on the verge of dozing myself when you woke up." They sat in silence for awhile.

"Tony–," Tim's thought was interrupted by a yawn.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." He yawned again.

"I don't really need the sleep."

"No, not that." Another yawn. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get what he wanted to say out, but he had to try. "Sorry for–," His eyes slid closed.

"For what, McGee?"

Tim forced his eyes open. "For hating you." He stopped fighting the drowsiness and soon was genuinely asleep leaving Tony taken aback by his final statement. He looked at Tim and thought about all the things Robertson had said to him, using Tony's own words. He leaned back, all thought of sleep gone. He had known that Tim got annoyed with his teasing, but he had never even considered the possibility that it went to the level of hatred. When Gibbs came in to take his shift, Tony was quiet. Gibbs noticed but didn't comment.


	22. Recovery?

**Chapter 22**

"Gibbs!"

"Quiet, Abby!" Gibbs cautioned with a look at Tim. He was still asleep but he'd been stirring over the last hour.

"Oops, sorry," she whispered.

"What is it?"

"I think I know generally where the meeting is going to take place."

"Well?"

"The National Mall."

"The Mall's a big place, Abby."

"I know, but that's all the file had. I haven't found anything else to indicate an exact location. It will be at the Mall on Saturday at noon."

"If we don't know the exact location, how will Robertson?"

"I don't know. Maybe McGee's wrong and Robertson didn't want to make the meeting."

"Do you think so?"

She hesitated. "No. I think he's right, but I don't know how to get around that."

"How did he know that Robertson wanted to make that meeting anyway?"

"I'm not sure. But as soon as we found that file, he knew. Robertson wouldn't have killed all those people just for a minor embezzling scheme, not if he's as good a smuggler as the FBI thinks."

"Quiet, please. Some people are trying to sleep," a voice mumbled.

"Sorry, McGee. How are you feeling?"

Eyes still closed, Tim said, "Like I was run over by a steamroller. What was in those sleeping pills? I must have slept a week."

"Only a day and a half," Gibbs corrected drily.

"What?!" Tim sat up quickly.

"You needed it, McGee."

"But, I–" Tim began and then stopped when he saw who was about to start yelling at. "What day is it?"

"Thursday."

"Have you found the place?"

"No. We know they'll be at the Mall, but there's nothing in the files to tell us exactly where."

"We must have missed something," Tim insisted. He was getting worked up again. He started to stand, but sat down suddenly as a wave of dizziness hit him.

"McGee, stay where you are. You are not allowed to leave this bed until Ducky says so. Until further notice, you're on leave."

"But boss, I need to help."

"You've helped enough. Now, if you don't lay back down, I'll strap you to that bed. Are we clear?"

"Yes, boss. Clear," Tim said. He lay back down and fidgeted. There had to be some indication of where the meeting would take place. He was missing something again. And he was more frustrated than ever at being forced to stay in bed while everyone else was working. He was ready to scream when Ducky finally came in.

"Good afternoon, McGee. How's the sick?"

Tim didn't answer. He wasn't even listening.

"Timothy, hello?"

With a start Tim realized that he wasn't alone in the room anymore. "Sorry, Ducky. I didn't hear you come in. What did you say?"

"I asked how you were, but I think I'm getting an inkling."

"I'm fine, Ducky. I've been sleeping for almost two days. I'm fine."

"Let me be the judge of that. Now, sit up and let me examine you." Ducky looked over all of Tim's injuries. He also checked his heart rate, his eyes, his breathing. "You're not as healed as I'd like. You're still too pale."

"I need more sun, I guess."

Ducky smiled sadly at the quip. "True. You've been inside for awhile haven't you?"

"It's necessary, I guess."

"For now, Timothy," Ducky said as he removed the IV. "Now, I'd like to tell you to stay in bed for awhile longer, but I think that would be rather like trying to keep an elephant restrained with nothing but a piece of string. So here's the deal: You promise me that you'll go to bed at night and take those sleeping pills if you can't get to sleep on your own. Eat regularly, and don't try to do everything yourself. If you agree to that, I'll give you the green light."

"I'll do it, Ducky. I promise."

"Okay. Go forth and slay the dragon."

Tim stood up, wobbled a little. Ducky steadied him. "I think I've been laying down too long."

"That's possible, but then again... Maybe I was too hasty."

"No, Ducky. I'm okay."

Ducky cocked an eyebrow.

"I promise. I'll take it easy." He hurried out and took his place at the computer. Ducky watched him start to type and started to leave the lab. He took a last look at McGee and saw him stop typing. He stood up and looked around uncertainly. Tim closed his eyes tightly and brought one clenched fist to his forehead. He tapped his head a few times. Ducky took a couple of steps toward him, but then he looked up.

"I've got it. I've got it, Ducky!"

"Got what, McGee?"

"The answer. I remembered!" Tim smiled, looking like his old self, and ran to the elevator.


	23. Set up

**Chapter 23**

"Boss, I know where they're going to meet!" It was almost a repeat of Tim's performance a couple of days earlier, but where he had been almost frightening in his intensity, today he was ebullient.

"How?" Ziva asked.

"I remembered. Robertson, he-he talked about it when...before. He was on the phone with someone and said he'd meet them at the end of the pool."

"Are you sure, McGee?"

"Look, I know that I may have misheard. I know that it may have been for something else, but I'm right." He looked steadily at Gibbs. "Boss, I'm right."

Gibbs looked at Tim for a moment, reading him like he read everybody. For once, there was no sign of uncertainty. This McGee was absolutely sure that he knew the answer. Finally, he nodded. "Okay, McGee." He looked at Tony and Ziva. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"On it, boss."

"I've got the short list of attendees. We only know the location of one of them," Ziva reported.

"Where's the one we know?"Gibbs asked.

"Dead. He was killed in Cairo a few months ago."

"I guess he's out then."

"Uh, yeah." Tony said.

"So who are we watching for in addition to Robertson?"

Ziva pointed to the images she brought up on the big screen. "These are the three."

"They're all so young," Tony said.

"I told you it was a student group. Mu'iideen is an Arabic word meaning teaching assistants."

"This is a group of TA's? You've got to be kidding."

"It started that way. The leader is a former professor at the University of Cairo, Mahmoud ibn Hussein. The three that could be at this meeting on Saturday are Khalid Ali, Syed Faisal Pasha, and Ibrahim Alwan. They were all graduate students until they decided to join Ibn Hussein's crusade."

"Why would they deal with an American?" Tony asked. "That would seem to go against what they believe in."

"I don't know, but the al-Qaeda operatives in 9/11 took flying lessons here rather than in the Middle East. I don't think they'd hesitate to take advantage of an American willing to sell them weapons."

Suddenly, McGee spoke up. "Look at his picture, boss." He leaned over and replaced the three students' photos with the old grainy image of Darius Robertson from the FBI file. "He's not Caucasian. His facial features are different. He didn't have an accent when he talked to me though so he'd have to have been here for awhile."

Gibbs turned to Ziva and Tony and asked, "Is it a possibility? You both saw him."

Ziva shook her head. "The brief glimpse I got of him... he was darker skinned than a Caucasian, but not black. It's possible. Darius is a Persian name."

Tony nodded his agreement. "If that's the case, possibly he was actually raised here or his name is simply an alias. But I wouldn't be surprised if it was an alias. We know very little about Darius Robertson before he showed up in the FBI files five years ago. Do you think he'll be there himself or will he send Bourdan in his place?"

"Too dangerous. We know what Bourdan looks like, and we're looking for him already. It would be safer for him to show up himself where we don't have good photos of him. However, we should assume that he'll have back up there, maybe Bourdan, maybe someone we haven't seen yet."

"The Mu'iideen representative will definitely have back up," Ziva added. "This type of transaction will be important enough that they won't leave things to chance."

"Neither will we."

The planning went on, and Tim couldn't help but notice that he was being left out of the takedown. He didn't say anything at the time. Instead, he waited until Tony and Ziva had left and Gibbs was typing something. He sat at his desk, fidgeting, trying to work up the courage to say something.

"What is it, McGee?" Gibbs didn't even look up.

At first, Tim couldn't figure out what to say.

Gibbs looked up. "What?"

"Am I going to be a part of the operation on Saturday, boss?"

Gibbs just stared at him. Tim hated to maintain eye contact, but he wanted to know. He wouldn't back down this time.

"I need to be there, boss. I need to be a part of it."

"Why?"

"I have to see it."

"Why, McGee?"

"Because I need to see that we get Robertson." It was a flimsy argument, and he knew it, but the plain fact of the matter was that he wouldn't really believe Robertson was out of the way unless he saw the arrest himself.

He didn't know it, but Gibbs understood his unvoiced reasons. "I'm sorry, McGee. That's not possible."

"Why not, boss?"

"Think about it. You are the only witness against Robertson right now. He knows it. If you show up and he sees you, that will immediately blow our cover and he just might get away." Tim opened his mouth to argue again. "No, McGee. If you want to be a part of it, you can monitor from here. Maybe you'll even see something we miss."

"Okay, boss," McGee said, but his tone conveyed a completely different message.

"Tim, I understand why you want to be there, and if it were only Robertson, I might agree, but we have the chance to intercept a terrorist cell as well. Nothing can jeopardize that. Are we clear?"

"Yes, boss. I guess I'll go back down to the lab." He stood up and walked to the elevator. When he got to the lab, Abby was gone, on a much-needed break most likely. In a fit of frustration, he kicked one of her chairs. It rolled across the room and tipped over... at Ducky's feet.

"Feel better, McGee?" he asked.

"A little," Tim admitted.

"What happened?"

"Oh, nothing really. I'm just frustrated."

"Why?"

Tim sighed. "It's just that I feel like I've been here forever, and now that there's a possibility of ending the whole thing, I still have to stay here when they go to that meeting on Saturday. Gibbs says it's because I'm a witness."

"But you don't believe him?"

He looked away. "I just wish everything was back to normal, but it never will be."

"Think of it this way, Timothy: In less than two days, this will probably be over and you can go home. It won't make everything 'back to normal' but it will be a step closer."

"You're right, Ducky." It was said with resignation rather than actual acceptance, and Tim walked to his cot and sat down, his head in his hands. He only came out when Abby came back with Chinese food.


	24. Takedown: The end?

**Chapter 24**

Saturday came quickly, and after everyone left for the Mall, Tim looked around the empty office. He had tried to suppress his frustration after Ducky saw his rather childish display, but now, alone for once, Tim sat at his desk and dropped the mask. When Abby came up to see how he was doing, he covered quickly. Together, they watched the broadcast from MTAC.

"Okay, everyone in position?"

"We're set, boss," Tony reported. The other agents all signaled an affirmative.

"Okay, watch for them. I don't want them leaving here."

Time ticked away and noon came and went. There was no sign of anyone on their lists. Gibbs was about to call it off when McGee interrupted. "I see someone, boss! It could be Robertson."

"Where?"

"He's moving toward the benches. On the east end. See him?"

"Ziva? Tony?"

"I see him, too." There was silence, then, "Wait! There's Alwan! He's headed over to Robertson. Do we take them now?"

"No. All units prepare to move in, but do not move until I give the signal. Unit 2, any sign of backup?"

"Stand by."

Tony surreptitiously moved closer to Robertson and Alwan, taking pictures of the Lincoln Memorial while Ziva acted as his model. They were arguing audibly about numbers and shipment costs. "You know, a lot of movies were filmed in this area. In _Independence Day_ the aliens blew up all of Washington D.C., including the Mall."

"You know what, Tony? I'm not even remotely interested," Ziva muttered, posing in front of the pool. She smiled fakely. "If you don't shut up, I'll kill you right now.

"This reminds me of that scene in–"

"Shut up, DiNozzo," Gibbs interrupted. "Anything yet?"

"I've got Bourdan! He's at the other end of the pool, moving toward Robertson."

"Okay, keep on him. When we take Robertson and Alwan, we get him as well."

Ziva interjected. "I see two men that look like backup for Alwan."

"Tony?"

"Yep. I see them, boss. They're way too interested in that meeting for it to be coincidence."

"Right. Everyone get ready to move. On my signal. You getting everything, Johnson?" he asked the agent in charge of recording the discussion.

"There's a lot of interference, but I'm getting a lot of it. Alwan's not too happy with the amount Robertson is demanding."

"Okay, take them down. Now!"

Chaos erupted around the pool. In seconds, Bourdan and Alwan's agents were arrested. There was a short chase after Alwan which ended with a flying tackle by Tony right into the Pool. Robertson ran a few steps and was surrounded. Tim watched with amazement as all the suspects were taken to cars. It had happened so quickly that he almost didn't think that it could really be over. The men were all taken to NCIS and booked. Tim looked at Robertson as he was escorted to the holding cell. There was no acknowledgment, nothing. They may as well have never met. Tim turned away, disappointed. He didn't know what he had expected, but it was more than that. Abby came up behind him and touched him on the shoulder. He flinched automatically.

"Sorry, McGee. Didn't mean to startle you. What are your plans now?"

"I just want to go home and sleep in my own bed. If Gibbs will let me that is."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

Abby kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Don't worry, Tim. It will all work out."

"Thanks, Abby."

He watched her leave and then sat at his desk and waited for Gibbs to appear.

"McGee, what are you still doing here?" Even though he'd been watching for him, Tim still was taken by surprise.

"Boss?"

"Go home. There'll be someone watching your place to make sure no one else comes after you, but go home."

"Thanks, boss." Tim started to go to the lab to get his stuff.

"And, McGee?"

"Yes, boss?"

"Good work."

He turned back and smiled a little. "Thanks."


	25. Mistaken identity

**Chapter 25**

Tim unlocked the door to his apartment and stopped dead. There had been a halfhearted effort to straighten the place up, but it was painfully obvious that his apartment had been trashed. He walked around looking at his broken typewriter and computer, his books and record collection. It wasn't so much the fact that his place was a mess as the invasion of his home that got to him. He sat down on a chair and felt the tears well up again. Since he was alone, he didn't bother to hold them back. He rested his arms on his knees and started to cry.

------------------------------------------------------

"What are you talking about?" Gibbs was on the phone with the lab.

"I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs, but the man you are holding may _not_ be Darius Robertson."

"How do you know?"

The tech elaborated, "The partial we lifted from the warehouse and the fingerprints of the man in custody don't match."

"Are you sure that partial belongs to Robertson?"

"Not 100 percent, but it's not Bourdan's or McGee's. It could be someone else who happened to come in, but..." she trailed off expressively.

"Thanks." Gibbs hung up and then called Abby.

"What is it, Gibbs? I thought you gave me the night off."

"I did. I need you in here right away."

"Okay. Can I ask what for?"

"Not now."

"Okay. Bye."

Gibbs called the agent he had watching McGee's place. "Ruiz, has anyone shown up at there?"

"Not a soul beyond verified tenants."

"Good. There's a chance that we might not have arrested Robertson today so keep a close lookout."

"I will, Agent Gibbs. I was just about to walk the perimeter."

"Good." Gibbs hung up again. Then, he walked over to Tony's desk where he was filing his report.

Tony looked up. "What's going on, boss?"

"The lab just called and said that the prints we got from Robertson don't match the one from the warehouse."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"It's a possibility. When Abby gets here, tell her to make a comparison of Robertson's voice and the voice of the guy we have in custody. Then, have her compare body features from them both as well."

"Where are you going to be, boss?"

"Interrogation." He walked away.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, Tim sat up. It was silly to have such an attachment to his stuff, but it cut him deeply that Robertson had decided to wreck his apartment for no reason. He walked over to the typewriter and saw that all the letters had been pulled out and the casing cracked. He touched them regretfully. Suddenly, he realized that it was getting dark. The sun was going down. Quickly, he walked around the apartment and turned on the lights. Then, he walked to his bookshelf and started sorting his books. They had been picked up, but the placement was all wrong and the books were out of order. He winced as he tried to move the shelf. His arm wasn't up to that kind of abuse, nor were his shoulders. He stopped and took some painkillers. This was going to be a big job.

"That isn't Robertson?" Abby asked, incredulously.

"Gibbs said it was possible," Tony clarified.

"Well, what about McGee? He's home now."

"There's an agent watching his place. Think of this way, Abby, if you can verify who we have in custody, then we'll know what to do about McGee."

"Okay. I'll get to work."

"Good." Abby started to leave, but Tony stopped her. "I'm worried too, Abby."

She smiled. "I know, Tony."

After sorting through just one stack of books, Tim actually felt hungry. Then, he remembered that he hadn't even been in his apartment for nearly three weeks. Any food he had would be rancid by now. He swallowed and opened his fridge. Instead of the mold cultures he'd been expecting, Tim saw that someone had gone shopping for him. He saw a note at the bottom of the fridge in Abby's writing. It read, "Welcome back, Tim. I knew you wouldn't think of shopping yourself. Abby."

Tim smiled to himself and made a mental note to thank Abby tomorrow.

-----------------------------------------------------

"Who are you?"

"You know who I am. Darius Robertson." The man's face betrayed nothing.

"I don't think so."

"Then, why did you arrest me?"

Gibbs didn't answer. He just stared at the man in front of him. Could he and everyone else, including McGee, have been mistaken?

------------------------------------------------------

"This is impossible, Tony."

"What?"

"Get down here, right now and grab Gibbs."

"He doesn't like to be interrupted when he's interrogating someone."

"I don't care. This is important."

Tony hung up and grimaced. It had better be worth it. He left observation and opened the door. "Boss, Abby has something."

Gibbs looked up. "Something important?"

"She said it was."

"Okay."

-----------------------------------------------------

After eating, Tim didn't want to turn his back to the empty room in order to clean up the kitchen. He hated the idea. Now that it was fully dark, he was afraid of turning around and seeing someone there.

"This is ridiculous," he said aloud. "They caught him. He's gone now." He walked toward his bedroom but thought he heard something behind him. He turned. There was no one there. It was no use. He was frightened. Maybe he should call someone. "No. It's just your imagination."

"Think again, Probie."

The whispered voice stopped him dead in his tracks. In an instant, he was transformed into the victim he'd been before. "No." It was a plea to the universe, a desperate wish that this wasn't really happening.


	26. Resolution

**Chapter 26**

Abby pulled up the two images she'd been analyzing. "Look at this, Gibbs. Look at the size of their hands and the comparison in body types."

"They don't look the same."

"They're not. They're similar, but not the same, and I managed to do a voice comparison. It's not very good and wouldn't hold up in court, but the tones don't match. That's not Robertson, Gibbs."

Gibbs pulled out his phone and dialed Tim's number. At the same time, Tony called Ruiz.

"There's no answer," they said, almost in unison.

Gibbs called up to Ziva. "Ziva, get the car and meet us out front."

"What is it, Gibbs?"

"We didn't get Robertson today. It's someone else. He's still after McGee."

--------------------------------------------------------------

"All this time, Probie. You had all this time to find me out, and yet, here I am. Still free." Robertson walked around, knocking over the shelves Tim had started to organize, kicking his stuff around. Tim was nearly flattened against the wall. His phone started ringing. He moved slightly toward it. Robertson took a step toward him. "Don't even think about it, Probie."

Tim was frozen with terror. The fact that Robertson hadn't even bothered to disguise himself told him what was coming. However, for the moment, he was relishing his power.

"Do you know how close they were to me at the Mall today, Probie? I was two feet from your boss. He was right there, focused on my partner and Bourdan. I could have touched him. You didn't see me either, did you? No one saw me. And now, they think they have me in prison."

Finally, Tim's mind unfroze a little. Robertson was gloating. He was trying to break him down again. The villains always seemed to gloat in books and the movies. It was their undoing, but Tim couldn't think of a single thing to do. Robertson didn't have a gun visible at the moment, but he had seen the bodies of his previous victims and he had no doubt the Robertson could do the same to him. "Wh-who d-did we get, then?" For once, he wasn't annoyed at the stammer. Let Robertson think him completely incapable of action. If he thought of something, he might take him by surprise.

Robertson sighed. "What did I tell you about asking questions, Probie?" In a blur of movement, he pulled out a knife and threw it, grazing Tim's neck as it flew past him and buried itself into the wall. "However, since you're curious, I'll tell you. He's a good friend of mine who takes my place often when we have these little meetings." He smirked.

-----------------------------------------------------

"How is this possible, Gibbs?"

Gibbs was driving. Fast. "Robertson must have suspected something might go wrong either with Alwan or with us. He used a decoy to take his place. Our photos aren't good enough to notice the differences right off the bat, giving him enough time to get away."

"Or kill McGee," Ziva added.

"I know."

"Still no answer, boss," Tony said as he hung up his phone.

------------------------------------------------------

"Well, Probie, it's been fun, but I have a plane to catch." Robertson, without any hurry, pulled out a gun and started to put a silencer on the end. "Do me a favor and turn around."

Resigned to his fate, Tim did so and saw the knife sticking out of the wall. It was a chance in a million, but he was going to die anyway. He might as well try and do something right. Without any hesitation, he reached for the knife, pulled it out of the wall, turned and threw it, as Robertson fired. Tim felt a sharp pain in his shoulder but also a stab of satisfaction as Robertson made a small exclamation of pain himself. He'd hit him! Tim wasted no time celebrating. He ran for the door and saw it standing wide open. As he reached the threshold, he tripped and hit the ground hard. At the same time, he heard Robertson fire again. Ankle throbbing, he stood and started to run again. Where could he go?

"Almost there, boss."

"I know, DiNozzo."

As they pulled into the parking lot, they caught a glimpse of someone limping quickly away from the building. The figure appeared to trip and then they saw someone else running faster. Gibbs slammed on the brakes and they all jumped out, pulling their weapons as the two shadows collided. In the darkness they couldn't tell which figure was McGee.

----------------------------------------------

"I've got you now, Probie."

"Not this time," Tim retorted and desperately brought up his knee right into Robertson's groin. However, instead of falling to the ground as he had hoped, Robertson merely grunted and dropped his gun and then punched Tim in the face. He dropped to the ground, a little dazed. He heard shouts and then felt Robertson's gun by his hand. He grabbed it and fired at where he thought Robertson was. There was a soft exhalation and then he heard a body fall. Silence.

"McGee!" Gibbs shouted. He ran quickly to where the two bodies lay, followed closely by Tony and Ziva. One was still holding a gun up in the air; the other was still.

"McGee, are you okay?" he asked as Tony examined the other body.

"This one is dead."

Faintly, Tim said, "I got him. I got him."

"You did, Tim. Robertson is dead." Gibbs reached out to take the gun and Tim pulled away and pointed it at Gibbs, frightened and still dazed. "It's okay, McGee."

"Robertson..."

"He's dead, Tim."

"I killed him?"

"Yes." Finally, Tim dropped the gun, and Gibbs got a good look at him. There was blood on his neck and shoulder. "How badly are you hurt?"

Tim didn't answer; he just stared at Robertson. "I killed him," he whispered.

"McGee!" Gibbs blocked his view of the body. "Are you hurt?"

"Uh, I don't think so. He nicked me with a knife, and I think he got my shoulder. My ankle hurts. I twisted it when I ran." Even in the darkness, Tim blushed with embarrassment. "Where's Ruiz?"

Ziva called from the bushes. "I found Ruiz! He's alive, but unconscious." She pulled him out and then called for an ambulance.

Gibbs looked back at Tim. "Can you stand?"

"Yeah." He got up and winced as he put pressure on his ankle. Gibbs supported him up to his apartment. Then, he examined Tim's wounds and was relieved to find that they were both superficial. His ankle would probably heal fairly quickly. It wasn't broken.

"What happened?"

"We arrested the wrong guy, boss." Tim, still operating on autopilot, gave a hysterical laugh.

"I know that part."

"Oh."

"What happened here?"

"He broke in. I don't even know how. I'm positive that I locked my door. I checked it two or three times. I was getting ready to go to bed, and then he was right-right behind me."

"Why didn't he just kill you?"

"H-He wanted to g-gloat, to break me down again. He always enjoyed it before. I guess he couldn't pass up another opportunity. Besides, he had no reason to think that you would have found him out." He looked down. "I should have realized. The man you arrested looked at me as he was being transferred, but there was no recognition in his eyes. Robertson would have done something, said something."

"No one else realized either, McGee. How did you get away?"

"He made me turn around so he could kill me. When I looked at the wall, I saw the knife he threw. I figured I was going to die anyway. I might as well try something."

"And?"

"I grabbed the knife and threw it at him. It hit him somewhere, but I don't know where. Then, I saw the door open and ran. I tripped over the doorframe and twisted my ankle. He caught up to me and I panicked and kneed him. I thought he'd fall over, but he just punched me in the face. Then, he dropped me, and I found the gun. I shot it, but I wasn't even sure if I hit him."

"You did."

"I guess so."

Suddenly, Abby burst into the apartment. "Tim! I'm so glad you're okay!" She ran at him and hugged him tightly. At first, he just sat there, but then he hugged her back and started crying again.

"Thanks Abby."

"For what, McGee?"

A million things flashed through his mind, for being a friend, for saving his life, but he chose the simplest one: "For buying my groceries."

She laughed. "Anytime."

"Let's go, McGee."

Tim let go of Abby. "Where to, boss?"

"To the hospital. They should check you out and you may need some more stitches."

"Great. I love stitches," Tim said rather indistinctly. He stood up and wobbled.

"You okay, Tim?" Abby asked. She put out her hands, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm just feeling a little..." he trailed off and went pale. Tony walked in and managed to catch him just as he fell.

"What's going on?"

Gibbs answered, "I think it all just caught up to him. Bring him out to my car. He's probably fine, but we'd better be sure."

"Sure, boss. A little help, maybe?" Tony tried valiantly to keep Tim off the floor, but if Ziva hadn't come in and helped, they would have both fallen.

"Where to?" she asked.

"Gibbs' car."

"Right, let's go. Ducky and Palmer are here, along with some other agents. Ruiz is awake but pretty out of it. We could wait for the ambulance."

Gibbs shook his head. "Let's just get him out of here."

They headed out to Gibbs' car. Ducky and Palmer both detached themselves from the crime scene when they saw the awkward group.

"What's wrong with him, Gibbs?" Ducky asked.

"Mostly shock, I think. We're taking him to the hospital."

"Okay. I'll be along as soon as I get that piece of vermin to the morgue."

"See you there, Ducky."


	27. Final awakening

A/N: I know I've been saying there were 26 chapters, but I just had to separate this last part from the rest, even though it's short. It needed to be its own chapter.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 27**

Again, consciousness came slowly. Tim basked in the warm, dazed feeling of the semi-conscious. But as much as he enjoyed the feeling, he could feel his mind sharpening in spite of his best efforts. His life recently had been punctuated by bouts of unconsciousness. He was afraid to open his eyes, but finally, he gave in. It was the hospital. How he gotten here? He didn't remember leaving his own apartment. Then, he remembered what had happened at his apartment. His eyes opened wide.

"Back with us again, huh, McGee?"

Tim turned his head slowly, feeling the chafing of a bandage on his neck. "Hey, Tony. What are you doing here?"

"Making sure you're okay."

"How long was I out?"

"A few hours. It's around five in the morning."

Tim began to worry a little. "Did you stay here all night?"

"Yeah."

"Why? Is someone else after me now?"

"Not so far as we know."

"Then..."

"Just accept it, McGee. I'm here. And if you bring it up to anyone, I'll kill you."

Tim smiled and laid back. Then, he had to know. "Tony..."

"Yeah?"

"Did I really..." His throat closed up and he had to start over. "Did I really kill him?"

"Yeah."

Tim just nodded.

"How do you feel about that, McGee?"

"I don't know."

"Good answer. Sleep on it."

That sounded like good advice. "Okay. Thanks, Tony."

"Don't mention it. Really. Don't. Ever."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Tim fell asleep, almost happy.

The next morning, the doctor wouldn't let him leave the hospital without talking to a psychiatrist first. Tim was able to be mostly honest about how he felt, and the psychiatrist scheduled a few extra visits just to be sure but cleared him to leave. Tony gave him a ride home and even offered to stick around, but Tim told him to go. When he got inside, he looked around at his apartment and wondered where to start first. It seemed almost a hopeless task. Finally, he settled for washing the dishes from last night. He had just started scrubbing when he heard someone knocking on his door. He went over and opened it.

"Hey, Tim. I thought you could use some help cleaning up your place."

"Hey, Abby. You don't have to–" he started to say as she walked by him. He shrugged and closed the door.

Abby shook her head. "Of course, I don't have to. I want to. What do you want me to do?"

"Uh..." He was interrupted by another knock at the door.

"McGee, last night, I couldn't help but notice that your apartment was still quite a mess from when Robertson was here the first time. I've come to offer my services."

"Thanks, Ziva." Tim was bewildered, but he let her in. He pointed Abby and Ziva toward the destroyed living room while he headed back to the kitchen. They had all just started cleaning when there was a knock at the door.

Tim opened it and was surprised to see Gibbs and then noticed Tony and Ducky coming up the steps behind him. "Uh, hi, boss. Hi, Tony, Ducky."

"Morning, McGee." Tony slipped in around Gibbs and started helping Ziva with the bookshelves in the corner. He nodded at Abby who was sorting Tim's records. Ducky joined Abby.

"What are you doing here, boss?"

"What does it look like, McGee? Where would you like me to start?"

Wordlessly, Tim pointed to the corner where his bookshelves were all in disarray. Gibbs went to the indicated place, and then Tim noticed that he was carrying a box with him. He didn't say anything, but went back to the dishes with an embarrassing lump in his throat.

"Ooh, Gibbs, where did you find that?" Abby asked from behind him.

Tim turned around and saw a typewriter nearly identical to the one Robertson had broken. No one said anything. He looked at his team, his friends. "Thanks, guys. Thanks a lot." Then, he went back to the dishes with a smile on his face.


End file.
